Dormiente
by Swamy
Summary: Post 3x18 She suppressed many emotions in order to be strong, until the sight of a tortured Damon awakens them.
1. Chapter 1

He barely raises his head to look at her. He's covered in cold sweat and blood; the smell of it makes her sick to her stomach.

His arms are stretched toward the ceiling, kept up by snares that bite into his wrists with rusty iron teeth. She can see trickles of blood hugging his forearms like snakes and, from the opened blue shirt, cuts so deep on his chest that she catches the white of his bones and the surrounding flesh appears yellowed and spongy.

Damon looks at her and pushes on his feet like he wants to stand up straight, like a kid who's been waiting for someone to pick him up and take him away; like he's trying his hardest to find a way to not fall against her petite body when she'll free him from the chains and the pain. Because she will, except that she won't. She knows she won't.

His misty blue eyes look at her from under a curtain of thick, black lashes – with every last ounce of will he possesses he is trying not to lose sight of her face as his vision fades. There's an alien emotion in his once mocking eyes, something akin to hope and she feels her stomach turn and her throat hurt. On weak legs she turns away from him but she can't seem to get the sight of him out of her head. His legs giving away under him, the iron teeth biting deeper into his wrists tearing apart his flesh with no mercy. His eyes dull.

She tries to summon that angry voice; tries her hardest to listen to that voice and tell herself that he deserves this and worse. She urges herself to believe that she will feel relieved to be freed from his presence. The more she tries to will herself to relish in his pain the more desperate she feels. Because she just can't save him. She's stuck between the heaviness of the legacy she inherited from her family, the loyalty she vowed to Elena, the love she still feels for Jeremy and the need she feels to save the one person whom she spent the last three years threatening to kill. The only thing she can do while her heart falls, and her body along with it, is fight for air that refuses to enter her lungs.

Damon is alone and lost and she wants to curse at him and yet she only manages to scream and cry. This is how she wakes up, screaming and crying. Like the night before, and the one before that and so on. And everything becomes more vivid and haunting night after night; she's gone from pushing thoughts of him from her head and splashing cold water on her face to the now constant feeling of these thoughts and dreams weighing her down. She dreads going to sleep because she knows she cannot save him.

Bonnie feels breathless and trapped. She doesn't think while she pushes her legs into her jeans and pulls on the first sweater she can find; doesn't think as she gets into her car and drives. Her knuckles are almost white when she knocks on the mansion's door with clenched fists.

Her only coherent thought is that she's going to suffocate and so he needs to open that damn door. It doesn't hit her, how disjointed her thought processes have become, she just feels like crying and hitting that door that won't open.

When it does open - seconds after she started knocking even though it had felt like an age - Damon looks at her with his confused blue eyes. His lips are wet from the scotch he was drinking when he had first become aware of her presence, not through her pounding on the door but from her erratic heartbeat that gave away her heightened state of unrest.

"Witch-" she doesn't give him time to talk before making one blood vessel explode, and then another, and another.

Damon is kneeling right in front of her, holding his head with both hands and gritting his teeth.

"Did I miss something?" he cries out in pain but she doesn't answer, she keeps her mind on the task of making him suffer the way she had been, until he screams again "Bonnie!"

She snaps out of her state and he falls to the floor, taking a deep breath more out of habit than necessity. Damon looks at her, irritated, and yet he keeps calm as he slowly gets to his feet and brushes off some invisible lint from his shirt.

Bonnie seems out of breath, her chest rises and falls quickly and he doesn't know if it's because of the power she consumed to make a creme-brule out of his brain or because of that smell he can distinguish so strongly; she smells like honey and guilt and fear. She has dark shadows under her eyes, and she is slightly trembling, he realizes. He would ask her if she's cold, if she needs to come in and sit in front of the fireplace for a minute, except that it's not like he does care for her one bit, or that he's worried she'll catch her death standing there at half past three in the morning in the cold wind with only a sweater. Really.

"I really enjoy a dramatic entry but-"

"I have every right to hate you and leave your sorry ass to die in the most painful way a human mind can conceive!" she begins, out of the blue.

"Well, y-" he tries to cut in, perplexed but she just won't let him.

"You've been killing and torturing people for the most part of your miserable life and you deserve everything that's coming to you!"

This time he doesn't even try to stop her from doing whatever it is she's doing, aside from the obvious, because she's fighting something right now and he's not really sure it's him.

"I _**can**_ hate you!" she screams like she's telling herself to do it.

"Everything I had, you took it away from me!" she says, trembling from head to toe "The moment you came to Mystic Falls my life became a living hell!" she accused, even if the rational part of her knew it wasn't entirely true "You killed the only family member I had that recognized I was alive and cared about me! You made a vampire out of my mother! She was nothing more than collateral damage and you expected me to accept it because you decided so."

"It was for-"

"Elena, I know!" she screams into his face "I know! And everyday I have to choose between her life and someone else's. Between her life and mine, and I hate to care so little about mine! I should matter too but I don't. But why did you bring my mom into this? Why? Why did you have to snatch it away from me just when I was so close? I just wanted it for awhile. I just- I just-." Damon struggles to keep up with her fast pace of thinking. "She was still my mother... there was something left for me after all..." she adds with a weak voice, like she's realizing only now the full meaning of her words.

She shakes her head, like she's telling herself to not remember those things anymore: don't remember your mother's turned back, your father's meaningless post-it on the fridge, your grandma's voice which you can't recall anymore. Don't remember Jeremy's betrayal. Don't remember that you are just a tool to use into a war that doesn't feel yours. _Just don't, _she tells herself closing her eyes just a moment.

She then turns and leaves the Salvatore's patio. Leaves Damon stunned, standing and relatively unharmed, with eyes very blue and very much alive, which makes her feel better, strangely relived.

Her head and her legs are light, hollow, while she reaches for her car, which blurs in front of her. It doesn't really matter, because suddenly darkness is wrapped all around her like a blanket and she finds herself falling. There is this vague feeling that she will fall and fall, forever, but she doesn't really care.

When Damon's arms stop her body from hitting the ground she's already into oblivion.

He looks at her unconscious form, head lolling. She's so light into his arms, so very fragile - if he just applied a little pressure now, around her thorax, her chest would shatter, and splinters of bone would pierce her heart. He would smell the sweetness of her blood, the spicy fragrance of her power flowing out of her along with her life. Except that she's already broken, and her heart is already pierced, and he doesn't feel like he can really add up to her damage. He doesn't feel like he wants to.

Instead he keeps her up against his chest, making sure her head rest against his shoulder, and he walks toward the open door of his mansion. He can feel her breathing at the base of his throat, her steady heartbeat against his chest like the echo of a distant memory, and the sky that's about to become coral above them.


	2. Chapter 2

Damon moves slower than he needs to - toward the patio, up the stairs, and finally, into his bedroom where his silk sheets welcome her unconscious body. There is no blanket - because he is supposed to be unable to feel cold; except that he does, more often than he is ready to admit - so he takes the one folded at the foot of his giant bed and covers her slowly, carefully, like maybe if he keeps her close he'll get to understand her.

He does understand her a bit already, though; he just likes to forget that most of the time.

_I have a trouble in mind and so have you__  
__You might be colourblind but you can tell false from true _

_What is the color of my eyes?_

Damon towers above her sleeping form and takes a step back, pushing his fists into the pockets of his jeans. Babysitting an angry witch was really not on his to-do list, but leave it to her to change his plans.

He moves one of the pillows, gets rid of an empty glass colored red by the blood he'd drank beforehand, closes the curtains, lights the fire, and just does anything to procrastinate until he decides that he wants to just stay in that room - it's his damn room after all, he can do what he pleases and she can't kick him out - and watch her sleep and try to understand why the hell she is there. But, above all, why the hell he's _letting_ her.

It's obvious she hasn't been sleeping well lately. The smell of fear and guilt has almost completely faded now, but he can still remember the bitter notes of that scent, and he would like to wake her up and ask her what the hell she even has to feel guilty about.

The things she'd said earlier that night just pushed against the walls of his brain. Yes, she had every right to hate him. She had every right to leave him to die. Yet, she didn't- sort of. So?

Did she regret it? That is one of her supposed faults. Is it are eating her alive? He wonders while sitting cross-legged in the chair in front of the bed.

'But _I _can___hate you!'_ resounds in his skull and suddenly, he thinks that maybe; just maybe, she doesn't hate him anymore, not so much at least. This would be worse, he decided, because if her moral compass wasn't working, her world didn't make sense anymore.

There is nothing left for her; she told him so. And he was the one who took it away from her, that's a fact, so her not hating him isn't really an option.

He never did stop to think of the things she'd lost. He only cared about Elena; Elena's losses, Elena's future, Elena's love. Which is funny in a way since it's the only thing he and the witch have in common. Only, it turns out, it's not because she has just lost someone, but because she's been abandoned by them; mistreated, betrayed, disappointed, humiliated.

_Sleepless nights are not even that bad__  
__It's just that you've lost something you never had_

"Now, don't get your pants in a twist, Judgey," he whispers, resting his head against the back of the chair, "but we are very much alike, you and I." This is a piece of information that he didn't feel the need to really say, but it's not like it changes anything at all.

She must hate him, it makes her feel better, it gives her a reason to fight on - but sometimes, just sometimes, he likes it when they manage to work together, when they have a twisted plan no one else would ever agree to, when she calls him instead of Stefan because she trust that he will get it done, when she argues that he's crazy and still helps him out.

Not that he gives a damn about her.

It's just that, aside from the burning and throwing and the threatening stuff they usually do to each other, there is some sort of mutual respect. That's all.

#

Bonnie wakes up four hours later. She turns in the last vestiges of her sleep, breathing in the scent coming from the pillow, recognizing it as familiar, even if she can't really place or name it. She lies on her back, arches up, stirring and letting herself be embraced by the warmth coming from the sheets. They are very soft at the touch. Her cotton sheets were never this soft, this silky, she thinks, but then again it has been so long since she could sleep well- from before Damon's kidnapping and the nightmares that followed, that is.

_Nightingales cross your path__  
__In the forgotten gardens__  
__Singing songs of your past in the forgotten gardens_

It comes back then: her fist against his door, his face twisted from the pain of the aneurysm, the weight lifting from her stomach after seeing him as annoying and pompous as ever. The name attached to that comforting smell suddenly strikes her. She opens her eyes wide and snaps into a sitting position. One light flickers on and there he is; sprawled in a chair, smirk firmly planted on his lips, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles and eyes as blue as ever.

"What am I doing here?" she asks, but more to herself than him.

"Morning sunshine," he pipes.

She doesn't say anything, just slips from the king size bed, planting her bare feet on the floor. Her shoes are next to the nightstand.

"You know, I didn't think it would be so easy for me to get you into my bed..." he says making her roll her eyes. Bonnie feels her cheeks warm a little despite herself. As usual, trying to ignore him doesn't work. "It was amazing Bonnie, truly," he says, dramatically, "I feel like I lived all my life just for this one magical night," he declares, slapping his right hand on his chest like he's about to swear to something.

"Are you done?" she asks, trying her best to not let him know that he's getting on her nerves - that would only spur him on more. Obviously, she fails.

"Nope," he answers quickly, proceeding with his monologue. "You rocked my world. Believe me, this will be such a precious memory for me," he mocks her. It's like knocking two birds with one stone: he can amuse himself and fuel her flammable temperament, so she will feel more like herself.

"It seems like you didn't rock mine if you consider that I don't remember a thing," she says. "So I wouldn't spread the news," she mocks back.

"That's good for me, it means next time it will be like the first time all over again," he says. "I am a romantic, you see," he adds with a grin that every other girl with two working eyes, or even one, would consider as sexy. She doesn't, because she doesn't consider him, _period._

_I lay the blame outside the door__  
__Please, please don't come back for more_

She bends and is intent in teeing her tennis shoes when he speaks again.

"Just to be clear," he says, now serious, "you have every right."

She freezes, strings still between her fingers while something sinks in her stomach.

"To hate me, I mean. As you know, I did what I did for Elena," he says. "The point is: it was either your mother or you. There could be no other way," he admits, like he is not happy that he chose her to be the one to survive. He is not happy at all that he'd _still_ choose her to be the one to live if he could go back in time.

_Silence, silence is what outside is__  
__Lay the blame outside the door__  
__Oh please please don't come back for more_

Damon sees her straightening her shoulders and look in front of her at the wall. He almost braces himself for an aneurysm that does not come. She is tempted, though, because he unnerves her. His very existence bothers her to no end. The fact that she felt relived because he's still alive or un-dead or whatever, bothers her beyond words because she can't _care _about him, because she doesn't. It's because it would be an insult to half her lineage, because she can't accept it, and she won't.

"And you expect me to send you a fruit basket?" she asks turning to him like she's pinning him down with her eyes.

"I'm quite modest," he says making her grin sarcastically, "I would settle for a thank-you card."

She sighs, tired of their bickering. She's used to silence first thing in the morning - usually because there's no one around - so she's not prepared for a full Damon-fucking-Salvatore-verbal-sparring session. She rises from the bed and goes to reach the door but she freezes again, hand on the knob, when he speaks again- sounding dead set.

"Since you were such a good girl and saved me again by informing Stefan about my little tiff with Rebekah," he says, making clear that she did save him, just in case, "I guess you're stuck with me."

"I guess so," she admits before turning to face him.

"You know, you have an alarming passion for psycho bitches," she reflects, aloud.

"True," he sighs, nodding his head, "will you marry me, then?" he asks with a grin.

She tries her best to suppress the grin that's attempting to reach her lips, despite the not-so-subtle insinuation.

"Do you really feel like being slammed into the wall first thing in the morning?" she threatens, trying to cover up her amusement at his idiocy.

Damon bites his lip and sucks air between his teeth, feigning anticipation. "Talking dirty to me. I like it," he says, lazily caressing the word _like_ with his tongue, "you're insatiable." He winks at her and she rolls her eyes, opening the door while mumbling, "you're insane."

Once she's out of the room he doesn't follow her, just stands there, fists in his pockets, listening to the light sound of her steps and the noise of her car's engine starting.

Damon reaches the bed and let's himself fall onto it, bending one arm behind his head. His sheets are pleasantly warm -his cold flesh is quite thankful for the service - and he can smell a light scent of honey.

The only inconvenience now is that his morning started out so fun that his day can only turn out deadly boring. Such a shame.

_Note: From this chapter on my beta is MagicWeMade. The song used is Forgotten Gardens by Mads Langer._


	3. Chapter 3

Bonnie looks at her reflection in the mirror while two girls leave the restroom chatting cheerfully about nail polish, girls' nights and dates. She sighs and forces a smile, trying to not miss the time of her life when she could let herself be bothered about such things - even if she was never really aware of the new trend of nail polish and had to depend on Caroline's omniscience on such matters; even if she never really felt like she fitted in during girls' nights; even if the date was never her own.

But it's no use to mourn things that will never come back. That's why she never mourned the way her mother had abandoned her, never got upset on Mother's Day or during school interviews when none of her parents showed up. She never even paid attention to her own birthday so that she have to notice that there was no one at home to celebrate with. It was perfectly pointless to do otherwise, and if things couldn't change then _she_ needed to, she needed make herself not care. That's her motto, or, one of them, anyway.

She managed pretty well, all considered, she thinks. The hand reapplying her nude lipstick trembled a little and she holds her breath lowering her arm. Sometimes, like now, for a brief moment, she feels like she is about to implode. It would be funny, though, because the school would just blow up and even _then_ people would never guess who did it. They would never think of her; because she's Bonnie Bennett; reliable Bonnie, punctual Bonnie, of-course-you-can-count-on-me, Bonnie.

Invisible Bonnie.

Elena is her best friend, she's had to endure a lot in her life and Bonnie loves her so much, and yet, sometimes she can't help but envy her, just a tiny little bit; because Elena can be ill-fated but, when she's not around, people notice. When she's in danger, people throw away caution for her, and when she smiles, people have to pick up pieces of their heart from the ground.

Bonnie is missed only when there's a new villain in town and they need her to do some witchy mojo, and Bonnie does not smile that often anymore because she's always watching, always waiting, always worrying.

Bonnie is no fun; not like Caroline.

Caroline is all rainbows, all lights, even as her un-dead version she's more alive then Bonnie's ever felt in her life. Caroline let herself love, let herself hope for tomorrow- maybe because she has a never-ending supply of tomorrows. Caroline's been brave and she's not second best anymore; people notice her now in a different way than before. She's Matt's eternal flame, Stefan's secret best friend, Tyler's saving grace, and Klaus' lady. Just like Elena is Elijah's mirage, Matt's first love, Stefan's soul mate and Damon's obsession.

Bonnie has never been second best; in fact, she's not even classified, actually. But who cares about such things right now? She doesn't have the time. She needs to go grocery shopping; she needs to study for the next trigonometry test, all while needing to stop the usual random vampire from drinking from Elena's swan-like neck.

Bonnie needs to increase her powers, practice her off-guard psychic abilities, keep safe the people she loves and vampires she hates- or at least one she likes to think she hates. And so there's no time for unsteady hands, restless nights or doubts. Much less, she has no time for nail polish, girls' nights and dates.

She pinches her cheeks and she smiles at the mirror before leaving the restroom to join Elena at the table.

The brown haired girl has her gaze lost somewhere in front of her and she's playing with her necklace. Bonnie sits in front of her but she still doesn't notice her; lately, it means nothing new for the witch. She doesn't resent her for it; in fact, being under the radar is usually a good way to increase her possibilities of staying alive.

"Is it Stefan?" she asks, curious to know if it's him whom is occupying her thoughts, since it's his gift she's playing with right now.

Elena is a bit startled and just gasps without answering.

"Or Damon?" Bonnie asks again, because lately things have changed and it's pointless to pretend otherwise.

When she says Damon's name she feels like her greatest shame is about to be discovered, because when she saw him chained, wounded and helpless, she felt the suffocating need to help him out and that's something she can't admit to _herself_, let alone _someone else_ know about it. Not to mention that she was such a fool to go to him, venting about she-still-doesn't-know-what only because she was exhausted and crazy and scared, and he saw her at her weakest even when she spends so much time and effort being the strong one.

"I'm just-" Elena shrugs, like she just doesn't know. She never knows, so Bonnie sighs and holds her the girl's on the table for comfort, which she squeezes back.

Bonnie gives her a ride home after school and they find themselves talking in her kitchen, picking a day to go shopping like they're normal girls, because maybe if they keep trying, they'll get it right for once.

Elena starts making coffee and Bonnie sees her taking three mugs out. One brown eyebrow arches and the girl informs her that "Damon told me he would come by," so Bonnie stands, her hands brushing her jeans and gives a faint smile while coming up with the first excuse she can find.

"I really should go now, I have to buy some herbs before I go back home."

"Oh."

"I'm trying to be prepared for any eventuality," Bonnie adds, trying to sound cheerful and set on her task.

"And what would that eventuality be?" Damon's voice is a purr, and Bonnie's smile falls.

So much for her escape plan.

"You know, in case I need a salad on the side with your fried brain," she says, sternly without turning to him. "Even if I doubt it tastes better then how it works."

Damon fakes a smile, holding his hands, bending a little toward her and then batting his lashes. She feels the mocking blue eyes trying to pin her down. Bonnie rolls her eyes, refusing to meet his, all while trying to not let on the fact that he is actually affecting her somehow.

Bonnie feels the air become heavier when she suddenly remembers waking up in his bed, between his sheets, drowned in his smell. Like he was safe, familiar, and other things he's really not.

"All this unreleased sexual tension is bad for your health," he says in his best angel-voice. "You should let someone rock your world, Bon-Bon," he mocks, feeling a sudden, light rush of blood in her body. It's a pity her mocha skin rarely blushes; he should really put his mind to the task sometime, he thinks.

"Damon, leave her alone," Elena tries to step in, but that's it; Bonnie shakes her head and is already at the door. She calls a goodbye to Elena, ignoring Damon.

"I'll be a gentleman and open the door for her," the vampire says, taking a bow and turning to follow Bonnie out.

When she approaches her car he's already there, leaning on it, the door still closed.

"How are we going to name it?" he asks looking at her, whom stubbornly refuses to raise her eyes to him.

It's been two weeks since the morning she woke up in his bed, fully clothed - god, is he loosing his touch? Is he becoming... _Stefan_? She won't be in his presence for more then ten seconds, she won't even look at him and it just bothers the hell out of him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asks, still not looking at him.

"You know, the elephant in the room," he explains, leaning into her to add, "Odd choice of pet, I must say. I figured you for a cat person. Always scratching. I'm more a doggy-style person," he says, and there's really no way he can be more explicit.

She's not able to stop herself.

"You're disgusting!" she burst out, finally meeting his eyes to look at him with an outraged expression, and then she sees him. He raises his eyebrows because he won, because she finally looked at him.

"Passionately primeval is a more accurate description," he suggests, opening the door for her.

Bonnie grins, and he gets what's happening just one second before it actually happens.

"Primeval, uh?" she asks, "Do you even growl?" And then it comes, the pretty part where he tosses around on the ground while she grills his brain.

When she stops he can hear the music coming from the car stereo; she'd turned it on so she wouldn't have to hear him- but _he_ hears _her_; her released breath under the voice singing, _'You can take it all away and I'll miss. There's a little bit of you in all this, and you can say you only think you know, yeah. Please, there's a better bit of me to see yet, 'cause you haven't seen any of my best_.'

It would seem masochistic to push Bonnie's patience to the limit so she'll snap at him and stop being so damn indifferent, but the point is that no one ignores Damon. _No one_. It's a matter of image. Public relationships are very important; one day people start ignoring you for a stupid reason like, you know, letting their guard down in front of you for a brief second because they're too damn tired to put up the usual show so they think it's the end of the world and stop talking to you, or fighting with you, or calling you out on your _presumed shit_. Then suddenly you have no respect, you scare no one, and you're the most ridiculed vampire in town. And he can't have that, can he?

So the aneurysm he gets is for a greater purpose, that's why it's okay with him. He can even play the wounded hero with Elena, aside from the fact that Elena only looks at him like, '_it's all your fault.'_ Which it is, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, he gets to whine to her, and look at her, and breathe in her scent. Elena always smells like vervaine and all his mistakes, but to him, it's sweet all the same.

Elena gives purpose to all of his wasted years. To the feelings Katherine discarded so easily. She's the turning point of a story he though he couldn't write an ending to.

And she kisses him.

_Note: The song in this chapter is "Say anything" by Marianas Trench._


	4. Chapter 4

When you live for centuries, you just see certain things coming.

Events are just parts of a chess game in which you are four steps ahead of.

You just know some things will happen, like the first world war's outbreak that has found its final push in the death of Franz Ferdinand of Austria, or like the bell-bottomed trousers' fashion that followed the disco music epidemic.

You just know that certain things will happen and if you don't have to fear for your life - in the classical, boring and definitely overrated sense of the word - then you can just sit back and enjoy the show, taking advantage of the general confusion to make a few extra snacks.

After all, it's not _his_ fault that he never had any figure problem or that he is a fascinating Italian-American stallion with a _fisique du role _which nature so sadly denied his little brother.

Anyway, the point is that if you are a vampire living in the world for centuries, certain things you see coming, so theoretically, Damon should have seen this moment come; the moment when he enters Elena's house because it's him and he can do that. The same way that he can kiss her, and slip into her bed and murmur her things that will make her, giggle and be very girly.

Because he has Elena now, or, at least he's got a part of her beautiful heart. It's disturbing to acknowledge that such a candid creature could deceive him in such a way; move his strings like he is only a puppet, but he can go past that, dismiss the sting of humiliation he felt, because he knows Elena enough to recognize she meant no harm, and what matters is that they are closer then ever. She can't deny it anymore, and it makes him feel proud, and giddy and ready to take over the world for her.

And it's Elena whom he is looking for when he pushes open the door to her bedroom only to find Bonnie looking at herself in the mirror to check out her new dress for the ball. She's holding her hair up from her face and she's very concentrated on what she sees. Well, mind you, it's something he'd like to concentrate on too.

_It's made up of lonely moments__  
__There was always a moment there when I knew._

Bonnie is curvy and he wonders how he could possibly forget that. The pearly black of her dress gives a different glow to her mocha skin. She's not wearing shoes and he can see the bronze nail polish on her toes. The naked feet on the floor suggest to his brain words like _accessible_, like _close_ - things she never is because she won't let herself. Not around him anyway, except for that one single time that he can't get out of his mind or make himself remember without feeling like there's something he can't quite decipher.

_You always gave installments,__  
__Always knew you concentrated and grew._

Her mouth is pouting while she's contemplating her attire, and he is very surprised by the fact that Bonnie Bennett can actually look very cute. Also, so damn young- he forgot that. He always forgets about her. He likes it that way and he doesn't need to ask himself the reason.

Her lips are full, her skin is smooth like a peach, there are feathers on her dress and she suddenly reminds him of a bird. Yes, he decides, there is something about the way she manages herself in front of him that reminds him of a bird ruffling its feathers to preen itself and scare his enemies away.

_And I believe in reinvention,__  
__Do you believe that life is holding the clue?_

"Hey, little bird," he calls out making her jump, "without the gown and the gavel I almost didn't recognize your judgy person."

"Oh, God!" she exclaims, bringing her hands to her chest, letting her chocolate curls fall down around her face. She turns around, already annoyed with him, making him feel quite successful.

"No need to be so formal," he says flashing her a smile, "you can just call me Damon."

She ignores his usual pompous attitude.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing at the moment," he says, "but I think I'll be doing Elena very soon," he adds, because, well _yes_, he counts on that _and_ he wants to irritate her.

_Take away all the lonely moments,__  
__Give me full communication with you._

She gives him her best, disgusted face when she tells him, "My disdain for you is reaching levels I didn't even know were possible."

"I love to be of inspiration," he replies, faking emotion. "In fact, whenever you feel like writing poems about my extraordinary beauty, don't let your _shyness_ stop you."

"Actually, I _do_ feel inspired..." she says, with the icy grin she always gives him before bursting his brain into flames.

He's on his knees again and it is really not funny.

"I get this is your favorite position," he manages to say while crying out because the pain is getting unbearable.

_Your smile, shine a little light, alright?__  
__Don't hide, shine a little light,_

_Give up on your pride._

"What are you guys-" Elena is at the door and Bonnie stops. His immortal body starts to absorb the pain when the witch finally is done playing her favorite game with him.

"As you see, I didn't let my shyness stop me," she says, with a very satisfied expression.

"Not before the fifth aneurysm, anyway," Damon objected, standing again.

"I've been swept away by a sudden, _burning_ passion for art."

"The only thing burning here was my brain," he says, clenching his teeth in irritation, "tz, tz," he waves his index like a scolding parent, "you should really be more subtle about your attraction to me, Bon-Bon. It's very indelicate toward Elena," he explains in his most soothing voice, giving her a smile.

Bonnie would like nothing more then to see him on the floor again, but maybe because of Elena, or because he would find a way to smile so hatefully even while being in pain, she just throws the first thing she can put her hands on at him - a stuffed animal with a heart sewed in his mouth - while he just ducks, and disappears into the hallway.

Damon grins, unseen, while the poor stuffed animal bumps against the wall and then lands on the floor.

"She really needs to work on her reflex's, that girl."

_Your smile, shine a little light, alright?__  
__Don't hide, shine a little light,_

_Give up on your pride._

"Will you two ever get along?" Elena asks, already knowing the answer to her question.

The girl has her '_I'm-so-patient _face'and Bonnie can't help but roll her eyes because Damon is so whipped by her friend that he follows her around like a loyal puppy, but with her, he is actually his most unnerving, pompous, jerk self ever.

"I don't really know what you see in him," besides his dedication, his 'bad boy on the road to redemption' attitude, his blue eyes and that annoying, fucking-perfect face of his, she thinks. That's it.

"I know he can be-"

"No you don't," Bonnie interrupts her, because she really _doesn't_ know. Despite all him wanting to be accepted just the way he is, the way he is around Elena and the way he is around Bonnie are miles apart. Around Bonnie - God only knows why - Damon lets loose an edge only she can get.

"I can't stand him!" she protests, suddenly feeling like they are two children fighting over a toy they don't even really want, and it just makes her feel more annoyed because it's all Damon's fault, as usual.

"Please, Bonnie," Elena says with her best, sweet, open expression, "for me." And just like every other time, she can't deny her anything, because Elena, just like Caroline, is her best friend and she's pretty much the only family she's got anymore.

And besides, Damon is their ally, even if she's reluctant to say it aloud.

_Note: I will follow the show's lead somehow; this is right after the trip to Denver, and so a few days before the 1920 dance. The song in this chapter is "Pride" by Syntax. _


	5. Chapter 5

He let the door close behind him before turning his head toward the manor hall.

Every thought about torturing Stefan with hints about his trip with Elena is put aside by the sound of her voice, which he instinctively follows like a sailor would follow the siren's call.

Bonnie is there sitting on his leather sofa, feet tucked under her, while Stefan stands in front of her. To meet her eyes, his little brother gets down on one knee and puts both his hands at her sides- on the cushions of the sofa- looking at her with that mastered_ I'm here for you_ expression of his.

For a moment Damon wonders if she will leave a scent of honey on the leather of the couch, like the way she did in his bed.

"There is no rush," he says, gently, "we can do this slowly."

Damon tilts his head to the side and looks at the scene with a confused face; there must be something he is missing because _this_ clearly can't be what it looks like. It bothers him to not know what's happening right under his nose.

Maybe it's that he somehow believed that once he had Elena's attention, once he got close to her, the world would start revolving around him just the way it revolves around her. Instead, Bonnie has her back to him and Stefan is still Stefan, and they are totally oblivious of him.

"There's _slowly_, and there's _immobile," _she replies, unnerved.

Stefan reaches out to take her hand but Damon cuts in, stopping him.

"Interesting," he says, stepping into the room, "what do we have here?" he asks, watching her shake her head in annoyance, still without turning to him. "Sabrina, if you're here to ask me as your date to the 1920's dance I must-"

"Shut up?" she suggests, with a hopeful voice.

He circles the sofa and Stefan stands up to look him in the eyes when he tells him, "Please, Damon, I think you can find someone else to go play with."

Damon grins and then turns his eyes on the witch. "And where would the fun be in that?"

Bonnie stands, sensing her control starting to slip away. She supposes that's strangely the worst part of dealing with Damon - he makes her forget discipline and control. When Damon is around, every nerve in her body turns electric and she just wants to scream.

"I suppose we'll have to move our session to another time," she tells Stefan, who joins his hands behind his back and leans forward to offer her a keen smile and a soft reply.

"As you wish, Bonnie."

She smiles back. Damon snorts, rolling his eyes.

He hates that it is so easy between her and his brother.

"I'll see you, then," she says, turning to the door.

"I don't feel good being neglected, witchy," he scolds her.

"_Imagine how good you'll feel if I make a flambè with you._"

Her voice is ironic and her tone is so clear that it's like she spoke into his ear, _or closer than that_, but he doesn't pay attention to this detail because he wants to answer back and go on with their sparring session; he kind of needs it.

"Is that a subtle way to say that you want to make dinner for me?"

She stops at the door and turns around, clearly perplexed, and he grins at her.

"What?" Stefan asks.

"Mind your business, little brother. The girl was obviously trying to propose me a taste of _French cuisine_ and... Maybe some _dessert_..." he says, winking at her.

She's not angry and he doesn't expect this from her. In fact, she's too busy watching Stefan. He feels like he's missing something. Again.

"You heard that?" she asks, finally looking at him.

"Of course. I am not an old m-"

"This is too much! He heard me!" she yells, pointing her index finger toward him like an accusation.

"Calm down, Bonnie," Stefan is the voice of the reason, as always, but at this point Damon is beyond confused. "This is good," he concludes.

"You're kidding me!"

"Are you drunk?" Damon asks, only a step away from being as pissed as hell. "Why does it surprise you so much that I heard you? It's not lik-" but he stops.

He gets it now; her voice was so close to him, not like speaking next to his ear, but more like speaking _inside his head_.

"Oh," he is very amused by how things turned out. "So you witchy-talked to me."

"_This is a nightmare!"_

It's enticing, her breathy words in his thoughts. It reminds him of the brushing of a gown against his legs; intimate and subtle, the way seduction was when he was alive, appealing to the most silent part of him.

Her spirit's voice touches his brain with a feather-like intensity and it feels good.

"Nope, Bon-Bon. Just the unavoidable truth."

"It must be because of your feelings for him," Stefan realizes, aloud.

"What feelings?" she asks back, "I have no feelings for him!"

Her reaction, so genuine and almost childish - something she usually never is - makes Stefan smile with fondness. His beautiful green eyes look even warmer then usual, and for a moment Bonnie understands why Elena will always be unable to let go of him.

"I didn't mean _that_ kind of feelings," he explains, with an indulgent smile that suits him so well.

"I beg to differ," Damon says, grinning with satisfaction, but Bonnie and his brother just carry on with their conversation.

"No matter how unpleasant it can be for you, Damon makes you be in touch with the most instinctive part of you. He inflames feelings such as anger or frustration. Maybe this is the key."

"So I have to get mad?" she asks, almost incredulous.

"Something like that," Stefan says. He smiles again, and it makes her feel calmer, "I think you need to hold onto the feeling that the person you want to talk to arises in you."

She is always so in control, and Damon - with his infuriating personality - is the only one that breaks her strings. That much can't be denied.

Bonnie keeps her eyes focused on Stefan's and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

She tries to call to her mind the moments in which Stefan makes her feel warm, with that gentleness that always seems like some sort of promise that she knows he will keep.

She bites her lips, wishing desperately to be able to do this right because she needs to. Also because she doesn't want to be able to connect only with Damon - he would be so smug about this.

"I know."

Bonnie opens her eyes, unsure, but Stefan encourages her.

"I don't want that either," he says.

She smiles, and tries to reach out to him again.

"_Can you really hear me?"_

He just nods, his hands behind his back, his care on his face and she feels accomplished.

"It's rude to talk into someone's head when there are other people in the room," Damon tries to snap them out of their private conversation but she only turns her eyes briefly before concentrating on Stefan once again.

"_I think our first actress feels left out."_

"And it's good, isn't it?" the answer is quite equivocal and she knows he's doing that on purpose.

"_I'm having the time of my life. In fact, I don't think I want to stop just yet."_

"I don't want you to stop either," there's a gleam in his eyes, and she bites the inside of her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?"

It's like listening to someone having telephone-sex - which wouldn't be so disgusting if it wasn't Stefan and Bonnie - and just like before, they both ignore him.

"_We should turn this into a regular thing, you know. Our private 'Bother-the-hell-out-of-Damon-Club' or something."_

"I believe there's hardly a man on earth that can refuse such a proposal," he replies with a lower voice, like he is about to lay her down on a bed and have his wicked way with her.

Stefan wouldn't do that, and she loves Elena too much to do that either, but it's good to know that they trust each other enough to play like that.

"_You know, you're pretty good at this."_

"If you'll be so kind to let me prove it to you, I can show you that I can be even better. I will not find rest until you are completely satisfied."

"Oh, for God's sake, stop it right now!"

Damon looks horrified and beyond annoyed.

Bonnie giggles, rolling her eyes.

"_I don't know if he's about to have an aneurysm or he's just wishing for one."_

"I know. You'd be surprised what can appeal to you once the mood is right," Stefan says, watching his brother massaging his temples.

"_I'd better go now. I'll see you soon, Stefan."_

"I sure hope so, Bonnie."

When she turns to leave she hears Damon's voice protesting.

"Hey, no one taught you good manners?" he asks, "aren't you gonna say goodbye to me?"

"Of course," she says, turning on her heal with the grace of a ballerina in the middle of a _carillon. _She looks into his eyes, smiling, and he waits to hear her voice inside of his head, but there's only silence before she turns again and disappears behind the door.

The only sound he can hear is an amused Stefan next to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Elena is so beautiful that she makes him greedy for her.

The more near she is, the greedier he is. Maybe it's because whenever he is on one of her slender arms, Stefan is on the other. If he has part of her heart, Stefan has the other one.

A little voice inside of his head whispers that Stefan has the _bigger_ one but he does not listen. He has no will or patience to think that his brother has found his way into her like bone marrow, and so having Elena means having the girl Stefan's love made out of her; because that's only the aftermath of the first love, he tells himself.

She can move on from there. She _is _moving on, into his willing arms. Even though she asked _Stefan_ to take her to the dance when he was just so ready to buy her a corsage and do all that ridiculous things girls like so much.

She's the epitome of the innocence he's lost, and the 1920's look is great on her even if it doesn't suit her quite so. She doesn't have the bearing for it, the posture. She's not _fatale, _unlike the witch.

It must be the power underneath her skin, or simply her combative attitude that makes her look like she can actually hold both her liquor and her men, then bury her last victim and entice her next without so much as breaking a nail.

Bonnie moves like she owns the room, in fact, for a moment Damon thinks she does.

He has eyes only for Elena, yet he can feel Bonnie's presence like she's a magnetic pole – only, he can't always tell if she's opposite or the same as he is.

It's always been like this, but lately it's becoming harder to ignore it and he doesn't know why. He supposes her venting to him a few weeks ago forced him to see a part of her that he gladly ignored all this time because even if he's the vampire, she's always been the less human between the two of them. She's always so in control, so untouchable, so strong and cold, like an ivory tower despite her inner fire - but that night he opened the door to a teenage girl, made of skin and bones and hot blood; a girl, very young and very broken and he watched her with fascination, the same way you'd watch at a natural disaster - with excitement and fear for what's about to come and the consciousness of being unable to keep your eyes off it.

So she is... what? A hurricane? Or maybe a thunderstorm, or an earthquake. But no, not that. She's not as sudden, not so quickly over. Bonnie rises slow and inevitable, like high tide.

He can feel her moving around him, yet he looks at Elena. Elena whom is all smiles in the circle of his brother's arms. Elena whom is exploring her options like they are two cars she's trying out before deciding which one to buy. It's Elena, that shames him more than anything he's done in his years as a bloody vampire.

How Stefan can be so gracious about this is beyond him. He bragged to Stefan about their little _randevouz_ at the motel to hit a nerve, to make him lose his temper, but he didn't. Despite the hurt so clear on his face, Stefan did not bat a lash, and to his words - _You know it's only a matter of time before she is mine - _he simply took a sip of his drink and answered that, "She's not a possession, Damon. She's not a thing. She is a woman with a will; a woman I love enough to let go of if I must, because her happiness is mine too."

God, how he hates the way Stefan has to love her. It's weak, or probably just _right_.

Right or wrong for Damon has always been a simple matter of convenience.

In regard to Elena, while he is the monster or the guardian angel - always one step behind or walking ahead without her even trying to catch up - Stefan is simply the one standing by her side; her equal; her other half. And Damon feels like he is always trying to glue the pieces of his soul back together, knowing that they won't fit. Not anymore.

"You're sickening."

Not really despite the molasses pouring from his words. Damon knows that.

And Damon knows that he, unlike Stefan, is not able to offer Elena such a pure love, because his feelings for her are forever tainted with obsession, a desire that makes him sick to the stomach, a hungry need for acknowledgment. Elena makes that need grow and grow, even more than Katherine's flirty ways that never gave rest to his suspects of her favor for his little brother; more then Giuseppe's perpetual discontent with his scandalously liberal thoughts that _portano la vergogna sul buon nome della famiglia, _as he so often accused him to, in his first language.

Elena is genuinely uncertain of what she wants, or really feels, and it makes him hope that the moment someone will make him worthy is just a grasp away, and makes him feel crazy with anticipation, need and frustration. And so he wants to tear her from Stefan's arms but he doesn't, because there would be no point in doing that. Because he could break every bone in her slender arms and she would still find a way to hold on to Stefan; that's the nature of their bond. It comes natural to her, like breathing. It's always there, under layers of obstacles and distance. Because Elena can have doubts about the way she really feels about Damon, but she never doubts her love for Stefan. That love is her safest place, her refuge, and her touchstone. And him digging a place into her heart won't change it, so he needs to be better, be stronger, until the moment he will surpass Stefan in her heart.

That moment will come; he needs to believe that much.

This time, he'll have to interrupt the idyllic moment, because there are more pressing matters at hand.

When he goes to alert Bonnie he finds himself a little surprise because she's not alone - she might as well be, considering whom she chose to be with.

"Sorry to ruin your seven minutes in heaven," he says, with the most incredulous face. She's always all duty so he is quite surprised she made time in her agenda for a make out session; at some point he forgot she was a human being, with physical needs, and it surprises him even more whom she chose to relieve those needs with.

She must be clearly out of her mind to lower herself so much.

"We have a problem."

She gives Jamie an apologetic look and follows him out, falling into step with him. Or maybe the other way around, he's not sure. As he's not sure if it bothers him more- her choice of partner or the fact that she actually has one for how pathetic the guy can be.

"Have you got a taste for losers?" he asks, not bothering to turn around to look at her outraged face.

He got her mad, he can feel the tension rising from her petite, soft body walking next to him.

"Why would you think that?" she asks, recovering soon, "you didn't see me kissing _you_."

What she is implying is pretty clear, but it doesn't make him back down.

"Your loss, witchy. I would have been more efficient than outsider-boy. It seemed to me that you were the one doing all the work."

"Your interest in my love life is touching," she replies, sarcastic.

"I'm not interested at all," he says, with emphasis, "if you're so desperate for someone that you need to settle for Jerry-"

"Jamie," she corrects him, angrily.

"Whatever," who gives enough of a fuck about him to take time to remember his name? "If you need to settle-"

But again she won't let him finish. He has insulted her enough, and she won't take it like a good girl.

"Says the vampire that holds on to the gown of his brother's girlfriends," she strikes back, stopping in the middle of the hallway and watching him turn around to face her. "First Katherine, then Elena. You know what they say, the third time's the charm." She smiles sarcastically tasting poison on her tongue when she adds, "Or maybe you could just accept the bitter truth, Damon. You are _not_ Stefan, and you'll _never_ be Stefan."

It's his weak spot, his Achilles' heel; she watches his face while his brain registers the blow. His eyes go wider for a single instant and a nerve under his jaw pulls and she knows his sore point hurts. That's good, because he's making her hurt too and it's only fair. And even if she feels a bit guilty about it, she won't show it.

"At least I can get laid," he says, adding a smile to his indifferent façade, "I don't have to buy a map for loser-boy-of-the-month so he'll know what he's doing, nor will I have to jump his bones because the thought hasn't even crossed his mind," He says, looking like he's dying to laugh in her face at her deepest insecurities, "flash news, Judgey, you should really _make it hard_ for him."

He knows he's twisted the knife perfectly well when he sees glassy eyes looking at him and then feels her hand hit his cheek. It takes him by surprise, this reaction of hers. She could witchy-migraine him, or set him on fire, instead she reacted in the most human, spontaneous, _womanly_ way possible. Bonnie _slapped_ him, and now he is mesmerized by her pain and her beauty because her breath is heavy, her skin is hot, her chest rises and lowers fast, her lips are parted so that he catches the impossible white of her pearly teeth and she stands so proud and so close to him, looking every inch like an irate lady.

If they were really in the twenty's - if Elena wasn't in danger, if Stefan was not with Klaus right now, if Bonnie wasn't more inclined to choke herself with her own tongue rather then share her vital space with him, if it wasn't just nuts to think of something like that in general - well, he thinks, if it was that peculiar case in which nothing was the way it is- he would be trapping her against the wall right now and ravishing her.

The picture in his mind is really clear, like a movie in Technicolor: his left hand grips her hip tightly, leaving marks on the soft skin, his foot kicks at her leg so she will open them to accommodate his body, his right hand slips in between the curves of her sex while his mouth swallows her cry. He would make her beg, and beg and _beg_. She would know pleasure, and lust and carnal gratification in its purest form and never again would she settle for anything less.

It's a crazy thought - if fueled by revenge or lust, he can't really tell.

What he knows is that this conversation - this entire, indefinable, absolutely nerve-wracking thing with her - took a path it wasn't supposed to, because he hadn't meant to hurt her but he did, and she had hurt him back, and now they are cut open and bleeding and neither of them can stand the sight.

He pushed too much, he knows. He was angry and humiliated because of Elena, but he can never take it out on her because she's so fragile, so delicate. Bonnie on the other hand looks always so damn in control and he just wants her to lose it - he always wants her to lose it. He doesn't know the reason why, but when he sees her, he suddenly has this one-track mind- to snap her out of that apathy she chose for herself.

It's like she's the sleeping beauty, and there's no way to wake her up.

He keeps his eyes on her when she just turns her back and walks away from him, leaving him to trace his cheek with his cold fingertips.

But, she is not the princess of the story, he realizes. She's the witch, and the witch never gets to the last page.

Note: _"portano la vergogna sul buon nome della famiglia" _means "bring shame to the family's good name".


	7. Chapter 7

_Note:_ First thing first, I wanted to say something to you. Reviews are a great encouragement to keep on writing this story, I don't get many but I still appreciate very much the few I get, and I needed to say this to those who are so kind to me: _I am very thankful_. This chapter takes part to the Missing Scene Contest over the Bamon Withdrawal Syndrome tumblr blog. The songs I used are "Closed Eyes" by The Narrative and "Dismantle . Repair" by Anberlin.

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His lashes tremble against the white marble of his skin, while consciousness reaches his body that is lying on the ground. He smells the rich aroma of the earth, the spicy scent of blood that's held magic for generations and the faint smell of honey.

His blue eyes snap open and he growls because of the lingering pain in his skull. He mutters a _damn _and then remembers: Little, naked feet on the grass, and Bonnie's silhouette glowing against the candlelight's around them, walking ahead without seeing him.

Damon senses the dawn approaching and the troubles that are surely already waiting for him.

_The clouds hold a storm over this road_

Alaric is not there, he knows. Bonnie must be inside, because he can still smell her in the air. That's good because he needs to give her a piece of his mind; what the hell has gotten into her?

But he already knows, because he knows the glint in her eyes when she is about to have fun at his expense, he knows the curve that her lips take when she has the upper hand, he knows her way of holding up her chin, all fiery and proud, the hurt and the anger that always push her to use her magic on him, and there was none of that in her when he saw her. But never-mind, he can't pass up the opportunity to hold something against her just for the fun of it, right?

Only when he finds her, he realizes with a creeping horror that she's not gonna listen.

_You're dreaming_

_Or at least you've got your eyes closed_

She lies there abandoned on the ground, like a broken doll its owner was tired of and just threw away. He can see the ripped flesh at the base of her neck and the smell of her blood is so strong that it makes him hungry and sick to the stomach because he can barely register the noise of her heartbeat and he's not totally sure he's really hearing it or simply imagining it.

Damon is next to her in a flesh, bent above her. He cages her in between his arms, keeping his palms flat on the ground, like he wants to trap her so she won't go away.

His nose is almost brushing her cheek while he tries to feel her breath on his skin, and when he does feel it, weak and faint against his lips, he feels relief washing over him, making him slightly high.

She's still alive, but he knows she won't be for long because she's slipping away fast.

"You die on me and I'll kill you," he threatens, making no sense. But nothing really makes sense anymore; not this fear, nor the urgency he feels- surely not the perspective of her gone.

_And this dormant love you've built inside your stubborn ways,__  
__Well its begging now,_

_for air of the silent breath of change_

He bites his wrist tearing his own flesh apart with no mercy, while with the other hand he adjusts her face so that his blood will drop directly into her mouth. But she can't swallow. Bonnie is too weak to open her eyes, let alone drink from him, so he growls with frustration, scolding her.

"Why can't you ever make things easier for me?_ Huh_?"

He takes her head gently between his hands and puts her to rest on his lap, almost cradling her. He rubs two fingers on his wrist that is already healing and brushes them on her lips, slipping them inside her mouth to force her to swallow the liquid.

"Com' on, Bonnie," he tells her, "just one drop."

It's like feeding a pet or a newborn child and he was doing so with a care and a consideration that he didn't even know he had in him; and it's quite embarrassing. Oh, hell, he really hates her!

_As these waves crash against the highway cliffs..._

_I'm so scared they'll flood me where I sit_

His blood go down her throat so slowly with her saliva, and the time that it takes to slip inside her tiny body is the very same time that could make her die - right now, on his lap, while he does his damn best for this ungrateful, judgey, infuriating person, and he just wants her to live so he'll have a chance to rub it in her face that she owes him her life, even if his debt is still greater then hers.

Damon has to repeat his actions a few more times more before she actually starts to cooperate a little and apply a light suction on the tip of his fingers. He's almost tempted to make an innuendo, to exorcise the fear, but he doesn't because she still wouldn't be able to answer back and it would be no fun, just pitiful.

When Bonnie tries to speak, to ask what happened, he shushes her.

_Well the roads, they change to waterways...__  
__They never carry home_

"Later," he says, using one hand at the back of her head to raise her enough to let her drink alone from his other wrist, which he quickly rips.

He lets one hand down while she holds up the other to drink from his wrist. It's a strange moment, seeing her self-conscious of her actions, depending on him, and listening to her heart grow stronger because of _his_ blood, while they are alone in the middle of nowhere.

Damon cradled her, and fed her and now he watches her come back to life the same way nature does after winter season.

_You pull back (pull back) and you angle towards the window…__  
__Now the rain is crashing down,__  
__And oh my god, you're beautiful_

When she decides she's had enough, and tries to move away from him, he pushes his wrist toward her mouth urging her, "A bit more," just because he doesn't want to take any chances, or maybe because - even if he won't admit it - it's nice to have something of him running into her veins and to know that somehow he is her strength: that he is inside her body; and she is now connected to him, and will be for a while.

_And I'm so unsighted, still I pray you'll hold back your escape..._

She does as she's told, which is a first, and when they're done, he is sure she is blushing while saying her timid "Thank you."

He bets she looked like this the first time a guy whom she had a crush on spoke to her; all embarrassed and brave and undeniably cute. Even if he's quite sure that at that time she was not made of curves and velvet; was not as inviting, flushed with the intimacy of shared blood, while she sat on the ground with no shoes and a dress that rose up just enough to make him guess what's underneath it and give him the idea of a lover that would be about to promise him the sweetest death - if it wasn't for the simple fact that he never considered her that way, that is.

___Yeah we still got time__  
__And in my mind these bends could be steered straight_

They are both tense, reluctantly looking each other in the eyes now after he held on her life so strongly. After he hurt her so badly at the dance, after she gave back just as much hurt as he gave. After they've been each other's tormentors and enemies and saviors.

Reluctantly looking at each other in the eyes now that they are just Damon and Bonnie, and they are _something_.

Something that makes him uneasy, actually.

"Let's go."

And he doesn't give her much of a chance to protest when he holds her at his side because her legs are still weak, and there would be no point in trying to because she's practical and knows her limits. Just, she would like not to know what it's like being pressed at Damon Salvatore's side; what it feels like to have his arm around her waist, one hand sinking onto her side and the fingertips of the other one brushing against her hip, like he's ready to hold her up if she falls.

That's a funny thought for her, to know that Damon - of all people, vampires, night creatures or whatever else pop up in this hellish hole of a town - will catch her if she falls.

She just doesn't feel like laughing, realizing she really trusts him to catch her.

He follows the rhythm of her steps, towering over her to make sure she can actually walk. She feels so self-conscious that she is almost tempted to hide her face, but the only thing in which she could, would be Damon's chest and so she must endure his blue gaze, his arm wrapped around her body. Bonnie's nerves are so on alert because of his nearness that when she gets a thorn stuck in her foot she can't stop herself from crying out.

"What is it?" he asks, stilling his movements.

"Nothing," she replies, taking another step to force him to drop the conversation, but the pain is sharper than before because the thorn must have gone deeper, and she raises her heel to keep it from touching the ground.

"Stop being stubborn, Cinderella," he tells her, annoyed, taking her into his arms.

"I'm not some sort of damsel in distress, nor I am a spineless princess," she tells him, twisting in his arms so that he will let her go, but he just holds her tighter against him.

"No, you're not the princess, you're the witch and the witch never gets to the last page," this is what he realized earlier. What he realizes now - looking into her wary green eyes - is that he wants to make sure she'll be the first witch who does.

Bonnie finds herself sitting in the front seat of his car in a flash, and then she sees him getting down on one knee outside of the car.

Damon raises her leg to take a look at her foot, and when she draws it back, self-conscious and embarrassed, he just holds her ankle forcing her to stretch out the leg.

"All this advance and retreat would be absolutely seductive but this really is not the right time, bird," he tells her with an irritated expression. He would really like not to feel drawn to her, but he does, and he needs to go to Elena and forget he ever felt this way, but right now he must take care of Bonnie.

He takes a look under her foot and sees the thorn.

"It's quite deep," he says with a practical tone, "I suppose I'll have to extract it using my mouth."

"What?" she actually shrieks, and he has to hold her ankle again because she's trying to hold her knee to her chest to not let him touch her, "You're kidding me!"

Damon smiles and when she sees the gleam in his eyes she realizes that she just got it right.

"You _are _kidding me," she says, outraged. Her muscles relax suddenly and her foot is back in his lap.

"Couldn't really stop myself," he admits with a smirk, tearing away the thorn in the same moment.

She winces in her seat and he puts her foot inside the car, standing and then closing the door.

Inside the car there is only silence. He is _very_ concentrated on the road and she does her best to calm down, but she really can't. The radio on doesn't help either. Damon's blood is in her system, she's very aware of the lingering feeling of his hands on her body, the air inside the car smells terribly of him, and she is incredibly sensitive to his very presence.

To put it simply, Bonnie is overwhelmed by him. Probably one of the effects of his blood working its way inside her and it's too tiring to try and resist. There's no barrier she can put up against it and her body gives in, surrendering to both his blood inside her veins and sleep.

_I am the patron saint of lost causes__  
__A fraction of who I once believed (change)__  
__It's only a matter of time_

_Opinions I would try and rewrite__  
__If life had background music playing your song_

Her steady heartbeat, clear under the music, gives away her state and Damon turns his eyes on her. Now he can cease the way she made him feel concerned. Now he can just look at her to try and find out what it is about her that makes him feel almost threatened, aside from the fact that she can grill his brain any moment. But it is all pointless.

_I have got to be honest, I tried to escape you__  
__But the orchestra plays on, and they sang_

What he really needs to do is tell Stefan they are deep in the shit once again, and look at Elena and feel like his usual self.__

_Oh, things are going to change now for the better__  
__And oh, things a__**- **_Abruptly, he turns off the radio and pushes down on the accelerator.


	8. Chapter 8

His arms are linked under her armpits to hold her up.

Bonnie is healing well but she's still slightly unsteady, so it's for practical reasons that he won't let her take a step without him; this is what Damon tells himself.

She smells like honey and earth and _him; _his blood inside of her makes him feel like they are inevitably bound to each other. The concept bites at him with all the displeasure he cannot bring himself to feel.

"We have a problem," he says to his brother, and to himself, because with Alaric as his psycho vampire-sque version he should not be bothering with such trivial matters, but he is.

He leads Bonnie to sit in the kitchen while Stefan gives her a dishtowel to tampon her closing wound, all the while Damon feels like she has him cornered.

"What do you mean _he turned_? I thought you were standing guard!"

Stefan is irritated by the turn of the events, Damon is irritated because Bonnie almost died and made him worried sick, and made him cradle her, hold her bare ankles, stretch her legs, keep her at his side and take care of her like something that belongs to him. And it bothers the hell out of him because she's a magical pain in the ass and because he wants her alive - not in this order.

"Don't blame _me_," he says outraged, "blame Bonnie the blood bank, she fed him."

She sits there all tidy and composed, and even _this_ gets on his nerves.

"I had no idea what was happening... okay? The witches lead me there, they wanted me to feed so he'd turn."

That much is true and he knows it, but he really needs a plausible reason to be angry at her, and this one fits the bill perfectly and he'll be damned if he passes up the chance.

He bent, leaning in just inches away from her face- in this battle of will they are so good at.

"If you're so upset with me why did you feed me your blood to save my life?" she asks, angrier then he is, and Damon feels the urge to diminish the moment, kick away the feeling of her head on his lap, her lips around his fingers, and dismiss the subject as soon as possible.

"Because I do stupid things, Bonnie!" he answers quickly, " I do things, like-" _listening to your venting about your losses and my choices and let it lead my actions, _he thinks, "let my friend die with dignity when I should have just killed him!" he says, turning his back on her, wishing he could just turn it on this entire, freaking mess.

In the end, it's her fault all the same, he decides.

And it only gets worse because Elena is not in the house and he wants to see her; wants to feel the pull of her attraction, wants to look into her eyes and feel like he'd do anything for her. But she always leaves him wanting; she always leaves_ him, _period.

#

Klaus' attempt at making a play of the _Three Little Pigs_ with them gives him a way to lash out a bit until the moment the smart little pig comes out with clean clothes and a plan. Leave it to Bonnie to manage to look like the intelligent one and have her hair fixed at the same time.

But despite how resourceful and intelligent she may be, when her mother is involved she is just a teenage girl, dealing with an abandon she never deserved. This is what he sees so very clearly while he sits on the red sofa with his legs stretched out on the coffee table, looking at her pacing in the room.

"Well, this is promising," he comments, turning his eyes from her, addressing the fear she won't let herself name; the fear that, once again, her mother let her down when she needed her the most.

"Relax, Abby will be here," she says, playing with the cellphone in her hands.

"I'm sorry," he pipes, "I forgot about her outstanding track record in the dependability department," he adds, rolling his eyes. Her trust is misplaced and this annoys him because she shouldn't be so blind about this; not everyone is as good as her, and she should put it into her head.

"Jamie said she was coming, okay?" '_And if Jerry-the-nobody says something, well, trust him I say!' _he thinks, wearing the most bored expression he's got.

The doorbell gives her both relief and her I-told-you-so attitude back.

"Don't get your hopes up. Might be a girl scout!" he almost chants, feeling relived too, because they really need Abby's collaboration, and because he doesn't feel like watching the pitiful sight of Bonnie being disappointed once again.

Damon plays the gracious host part, but Abby is still offended over a trivial matter like getting her killed and turning her into a vampire. Mother like daughter, but she's not half as pretty as Bonnie, so her grudge towards him has less appeal. He turns to Bonnie with the blood her mother so rudely refused, and widens his eyes to signal how awkward the situation is.

Damon sits next to her like they are forming a united front against the evil, or the _Beliebers; _whatever. He drinks and watches her face her mother, her role into this freaking supernatural war, and her deepest fears.

Damon is quite proud of her- he must admit- to himself, at least.

"Gotta say I'm _Team Bonnie _on this one," he says, making her turn around to look at him. She probably doesn't really believe him, but he's serious. He picks on her because she can handle him- this says something- and he asks for her help because she can do her part.

And he saved her life because he gives a damn. It's not like he_ cares_, that's too big of a word. No, he does not care, he just likes that she is alive, and that she doesn't take shit from anyone, and will have the possibility to redeem herself into the men department; because, let's be honest, if she died after offering her favor to Jeremy and Jerry-the-nobody, and never enjoyed the thrill of submitting to the rules of attraction, it would be a waste.

He playfully winks at her, "how hard can it be to parch a vampire?" he asks, adjusting his shot so this conversation won't seem too much of a heart to heart thing, and lets her go back to her discussion with the winner of Mother of Year contest.

Abby talks about balance and responsibilities and '_can you handle that?'_ she asks very dramatically,and he feels like he's watching a Spiderman remake.

"What?" he asks, grimacing, "what does that mean? Bonnie I don't speak witch."

"I have to stop a human heart."

Oh, well, he really didn't see _that_ coming.

But even in this mess he can still rely on the certain things of his un-life: a good banter with his favorite witch, Jeremy being stubborn and unreasonable as his age requires, Elena getting kidnapped; just the usual stuff they do on week-ends.

#

Bonnie offers them her blood and Damon is the first one to drink it. It's been two years since the first time he had it, and he likes it even better now, he realizes, looking at the little bottle in his right hand. Somehow, he thinks her taste is growing on him.

Her essence slips into him just like his did into hers a few hours before, and his consciousness to her presence next to him bothers him infinitely, but he does not move away; united front and all.

"Shall we?" Stefan asks, leading the way and Damon follows him, wondering when he started to take into account witchy teenagers' opinion, thinking that he really hopes Bonnie knows what she's doing, because his stud persona depends on it.

"_And what a ugly place the world would be without you," _her voice touches his thoughts, sending a shiver along his spine.

Go figure. The blood bond opened every psychic channel and so now she has no need to improve her abilities - with him at least - because they share a free private line and if he talks to her inside his head, she'll get a notification; he rolls his eyes and keeps on walking after Stefan.

"_I am glad to hear that you finally saw the light, Bon-Bon."_

He doesn't look around, and he does not need to, to know that she is rolling her eyes.

###

Twenty-four hours later he does actually see her roll her eyes, making a big show of it, too, because they need to go on a road trip. Stuck together in the passenger compartment of his car with no way to avoid her honey scent, or the smell of his leather jacket, with a bond that is, if not _as_ strong as hours before, is _there_, silent and unavoidable between them like some sort of third wheel.

She's not happy about the trip, but she doesn't protest because Stefan is the one to give her the news, and God forbid that she denies anything to his little brother.

Damon is quite sure she mind-spoke to him, because Stefan gives her a sly smile and there's something vaguely conspiratorial about them; again, he is cut out of their peculiar relationship and he should be used to the feeling by now because he's always the one left out. Elena made him practice that feeling very much and he is working on patience, but in this case, it just bothers him.

Bonnie is always angry with him or disturbed by his existence or embarrassed by his sexual remarks, but that is, for him, a fun way to have her attention. Now he's left out, ignored, and it bothers him like hell, even if he won't let her know.

She sits next to him; all composed, with the safety belt on, nicely pressed against her left breast, head resting against the seat while she looks outside the window. She does not make a noise, but for him, it's impossible all the same to forget her presence because her scent won't let him.

"Aren't we a great team, Robin?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"And you would be Batman?" she asks back, looking at him and raising one eyebrow.

It totally escapes him by the fact that she did not deny the fact that they are a team.

"Of course," he replies grimacing, like he is incredulous she is even asking, "I mean, I am a crow rather than a bat, but as far as the charm factor I am _totally_ Batman."

"Incase you failed to notice, _I _am the one doing the dirty work here, so I shouldn't be the sidekick," she says, pointing her index finger on her chest, a few inches above her breast, "besides, you and Bruce Waine have _nothing_ in common, and I have too much breast to be Robin."

"I agree on the latter, even if - in the name of accuracy - I should check for myself-"

"Pig."

"-but, you can't deny that there's something dark and heroic about me," he insists.

"Says who?" she asks, "I can and I will. If you really need to associate yourself to some kind of fictional character you should at least aim for your level. Like Hannibal King."

"What? First of all: I am _not _the supporting character," he says, insulted, "I look too good for that," he adds, to clarify, "and I surely don't go around drinking rabbit's blood. That would be my dear brother," he reminds her. "If anything, I should be someone wild and strong, like Wolverine. Or simply amazing, like Captain America."

"Captain America?" she asks, incredulous, he has the nerve to compare himself to him, "you mean ex-soldier, humble and good Captain America? _That_ Captain America?" she asks, "you should consider yourself lucky that I didn't compare you to Wile E. Coyote. And by the way, Hannibal King is cocky enough."

"You're kidding me," he replies, "I'm not dignifying that _Wile E. Coyote_ thing with a reply, because I am _that_ generous, but I'll have you know that I _was_ a soldier-"

"You forgot the humble and good part," she cuts in.

"-and Hannibal King wears vests, _all the freaking time," _he says, outraged by this low habit, "It's insulting. The man has no style."

She shakes her head, and he turns towards her to ask, "And how do you know so much about comic heroes, by the way? Is there a nerd under that witchy appearance?"

"My dad," she says flatly.

"He likes comic books?"

"He's a male," she answers simply, shrugging, because that simple fact is an answer enough, "he collects them. It's all he does with his free time, which is not much."

That is a chink on her feelings, a crack in her armor, and he's so tempted to slip in and peer around her soul into her deepest, most secretive place. Damon bets it's a beautiful place. But he is torn, because he wants to keep her near and wants to keep her at arm's length, and it seems like he can't have either.

The light signaling they need gas makes the decision for him. He stops the car at the gas station a few yards on their right and gives her money to fill up the fuel tank while he goes to buy something. Whatever, just to be away from her.

"My skin is too fair to come close to this stuff," he says, just to irritate her.

Bonnie looks at him askance, angry that he'll just duck whatever kind of dirty work there is to do.

"Jerk," she murmurs, under her breath, knowing he'll hear her all the same.

The station's radio is playing _Trouble Blues_ by Lightin' Hopkins and there's a dense smell of motor oil.

She approaches the pump dispenser under the eyes of a blond guy with a pigtail that she doesn't notice until he speaks to her.

"Your boyfriend is a jerk," he says, taking off his biker gloves. His jeans are ripped and he slightly slurs.

"He _is _a jerk, but _not_ my boyfriend," she clarifies.

"I see," he says, coming closer, "you need help with that?" he asks putting his hand above hers on the handle of pump. Bonnie pulls back, hinting a smile and refusing with a "No, thanks."

"You could just dump him and come with me. There's enough space for a pretty thing like you on my motorbike," he says with a smile, following her when she turns her back to go and fill up the car.

"That's a nice offer," she says gritting her teeth, bothered by his misogynist attitude, "but I'll have to refuse."

"Nonsense," he insists, "I want nothing more than to be very nice to you, and in return, you could be _nice_ to me, too," he says. And just in case it's not clear enough _how_ nice he wants her to be, he gropes her ass, earning her elbows in his ribs, which he dodges.

"Feisty," he says, sucking between his teeth in anticipation, pushing her against the car to trap her between the door and his body.

Bonnie tries to push him away but he locks her writs into his hands. His breath smells of pot and part of her is very tempted to make one of his vessel _pop_. The idea gives her a creepy pleasure, so much so that she feels herself shivering against his body. She has to battle with herself to not.

"Don't be scared," he says, mistaking her feeling with fear, "Bruce will take good care of you."

"Bruce, huh?" Damon's voice makes both of them turn, "well, Bruce, you just ruined my character," he says, grimacing, "now, before I add more damage to the one Mother Nature already did: Step. Away. From. Her," he spells, barely keeping his rage in check.

Bonnie would give him such a lecture if he now tore the idiot to shreds.

Bruce, the idiot, does step back, but only to smile with the warmth like a hyena to her, while he says to him, without turning, "Don't mess with me. I have a taste for blood."

Damon is tempted to laugh, but he doesn't like the way he's looking at Bonnie, and he doesn't like him throwing around lines like he's the main lead of the movie. That's _his_ role.

"Then we have something in common, Bruce"

The blond turns to shot him a threatening look, but meeting black eyes and a dead, white-blue veined face, he stumbles back.

"W-What are you?"

"Damon, stop."

He ignores her scolding voice and gives the guy a creepy smile.

"The ghost of your future Christmas, which you won't see if you don't stop doing pot and bothering girls that are out of your league," he says, while the guys circles him, trying to go back to his motorbike that is at Damon's back.

Damon moves too, just to keep on looking at him, while he smells his terror growing more and more. Bruce turns and runs to the bike while the gas station owner holds a rifle in his hands.

The man is used to bikers making trouble and so when he saw Bruce bothering Bonnie he went to get his rifle, ready to scare the guy away, only to come face to face with an all vampired-up Damon.

The old man tries to aim at him with his rifle but his hands tremble and when Damon grips it and tears it away from his hands, the man takes a step back and presses a hand to his chest.

"There's no need to sweat," Damon says calmly while his eyes become blue again, reading the name on his tag, "Eddie."

But Eddie is sweating cold and his face twists in pain while he becomes paler and he falls to the ground.

"Oh, God," Bonnie rushes to his side, but can't do much while he gasps for air, please, calm down," she says while the man's heart stops and Damon gets down next to him, to his other side, "I'm the good guy here!"

"Was it really necessary to do the Dickens version of poster-boy against the drugs abuse?" she asks, feeling panic rising.

"I was defending you," he answers, "why didn't you use your juju on the idiot?"

"Because the idiot is human!"

"He hardly classifies as!"

Damon looks down, hearing a moan and then Eddie's heart stop.

"I think he's gone."

Bonnie starts pressing down on the man's chest to reactivate his heart and Damon tries to help her out but it doesn't work.

"I-" she doesn't know, "I need to do something," she says, to herself, raising her arms and keeping her open palm towards Eddie's body.

She starts chanting something Damon can't decipher and a light wind rises all around them, making her hair fly around her face. Her eyes roll back and he sees the white. Damon hears clearly Eddie's heart beat once and then again.

Bonnie feels the man's life touching her fingertips, like it's almost malleable under her hands. The feeling is thrilling. She can decide the rhythm of his heartbeat; with a whisper it starts to accelerate, and then another whisper and it slows down until it almost stops and she can play with him like a doll made of flesh.

It's just too exhilarating and she does not hear Damon's voice calling her.

"Bonnie!" he repeats, while Eddie trembles on the concrete like he's about to have an epileptic crisis. He tries too reach out to her with both his hands and his mind but her head is like an atomic power station on alert and he collides with an invisible barrier around her body that pushes him back. Their collision produces some sort of short-circuit and when he raises his head to look at her she's in his same position, laying on the concrete, propped up on her elbow.

Damon sees her swallow and look around her guilty, trying to not meet his eyes.

"You're alright?" he asks, but it seems like she doesn't even hear him, "Bonnie, are you alright?" he asks again, this time catching her attention.

"Y-yes," she says, almost stumbling upon her words, "yes, I'm fine."

But she is not, and he thinks it was a stupid question in the first place, so he stands up and offers her his hand to help her up.

"Well," he says, her hand still holding his, like she needs something familiar to reassure herself with, like he can ever make her feel safe, "That was _hot._"


	9. Chapter 9

Elena plays with her necklace, almost ripping off her throat, oblivious of her own strength.

Damon tightens his jaw, watching her step away from her brother when he tries to comfort her.

"I don't want this!" she almost sounds like a spoiled child, but considering the stress she's under, Damon cannot blame her; he could never blame her.

"It's okay," Jeremy tries to reassure her, but she just closes her hands into two fists at her sides and yells at him that, "It's not!" and she has tears in her pretty brown eyes.

"I am dead!" she protests, and Damon takes a step to stop her from going in circles around the unchangeable fact that she is now a vampire.

"Technically, you're un-dead, but that's not the point," he says, calmly, "The point, is that to stay _alive _you have to complete the transition, so you need to drink now."

"I won't!" she says; he's not sure if she's about to stomp her foot or scream in his face, "this was not supposed to happen! I didn't ask for this!"

As human she was quite emotive, now, her character seemed amplified to some sort of easily reached, emotional outburst. Like a stick of dynamite with a short riot, and he is highly inflammable himself so the very idea of handling her, permanently in this state, is exhausting.

"You need to be reasonable," he tells her, trying to sum all his patience. He wants to understand what she's going through because he knows what it feels like, yet she won't let him say a word without covering it with refusals in high pitches. "And make the best out of it," he continues.

"Elena, please," Jeremy's plead almost gets to her, making her gasp and close her mouth into a pout, "I don't want you to leave me."

She looks sympathetic, "_You_ will leave _me_ eventually," she says, grimacing like the moment she is talking about is just around the corner, "You'll get married and have a family and I'll have to disappear from your life, and even if we find a way, you'll still have to grow old and die."

"Eventually! Like… in a hundred years from now!" Damon reminds her, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I am not turning!" she insists, and then her face softens and she takes two steps to look him straight in the eyes, "please Damon, don't you love me?" she asks him, letting her fingertips trace mid-air, the curve of his jaw. Her pupils don't grow, and she is wearing vervaine, but he is almost sure she's compelling him because this looks so familiar. Yes, this looks like the way Katherine used to be; all whispers and sweetness, talking to him as though he was the only man in the world, the only one she could see and then luring his brother to her bed behind his back.

Elena always had him wrapped around her fingers, manipulating him into doing what she wanted – like she couldn't stand to reason with him for more than five seconds - but she had never been so forward. His stomach turns and he has to look away to not throw up. He feels exposed, like his skin has been reaped away from him while he wasn't watching and now she can hurt as she pleases.

"Stop," he says between his teeth, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to be away from her. He takes a breath and calls it a truce, "Let's talk about this later," he says, turning his back and leaving the room.

Jeremy follows him out and goes to his room to be alone. It must be a little hard to swallow the fact that the last person he has was deciding to leave him without so much as hearing him out.

But Elena never listened to anyone, aside Stefan, maybe.

That's when he remembers that Stefan was in the room too, and he hadn't said a single word, remaining in one corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes glued to Elena as she walked in.

Damon turns his head and listens inside the room: two steps from his brother, and a sigh from Elena.

"You want to convince me too?" she asks, "I always told you I didn't want this kind of life."

"I know you didn't," he says, "And as much as I am tempted to beg you to choose otherwise, I won't."

Damon feels like breaking down the door and having a word with him, but he stays still and keeps on listening.

"I know what it feels like to remember and regret the past. I forced Damon to turn when he did not want to because I couldn't bear to lose my big brother," he says, and Damon feels the pull of his own blood and the sense of brotherhood warm his cold flesh a bit, "but I won't do it to you."

"Thanks," she says, sounding a lot like the Elena he used to know.

"But I'll say this to you. I've been walking my years in misery and guilt and I wished many times I hadn't turned, hadn't made of myself the monster I have to keep at bay every day, but this desolation that I made of my life has brought me to you, and I can't bring myself to regret it."

"Would you…" she starts, "If you could, would you…"

"Ask me," he says, his voice stark.

"If you could go back, would you do it all the same?"

"As long as I could have one moment with you, I would do it all over, until it killed me."

#

She turns. She turns with her brother's blood and Damon and Stefan at her side to stop her from doing serious damage.

She wants to go on as _humanly_ as possible and she wants to go out in the sun. Because he can leave her in Stefan's care, Damon decides to go to Bonnie so that he can separate himself from this mess for a few minutes.

Bonnie will be mad for what happened to Elena, will be helpful in the handling part and will face him with all that rightness and will of hers, recognizing he has actually a spine and she didn't conveniently forget that.

He has to wait for her because she's not home and she won't pick up the phone.

Damon notice the new red ankle boots gracing her little feet with the heel making a little hole in the ground as she gets out of the car. She has a few bags hanging from her bent arm and one little one hanging from her closed fingers. There are names all over the bags: _Giuseppe Zanotti_, _Christian Louboutin_, _foreverunique, D&G, tonimay._

She's dressed in tight, black jeans that hug her curves just right and a tight black sweater that covers her up to her neck. When she walks his way, she does not bother to look at him.

"Where the hell were you?" he asks, while she puts her booted foot upon the first step, "And why didn't you pick up your phone?"

"Hi Damon," she says, waling to the front door that opens itself, "I'm fine, _thanks_." She talks like she's brushing the words with her tongue, "How are you? Please, step inside and make yourself comfortable."

"Nice trick," he says, following inside, still thrown off by her odd friendliness. "It was urgent," he says, going back to the previous subject.

"It usually is," she says flatly.

"We have a problem."

"That's a line I've never heard before," she says, pulling back a chair to sit down then looks at her nails. She grimaces at her pearly white nails and blows on them, making them turn blood red.

"You're having quite some fun," he says.

"Finally," she says, smiling at her polished nails.

"Did you rob a mall?" he asks "That's a nice sweater," his voice taking a new sharpness when he notices little black veins around her neck peeking out from the neck of the sweater.

"I am glad you approve of my new look," she says, crossing her legs, looking at him with a flirty smile that would give the wrong idea to anyone who didn't know her true self, "If anything else, you know how to dress yourself."

"Yes, and I would like nothing else than to spend the day trading make up advice, but I think we have something big on our hands."

Oh, how _fucking_ right he is.

She props her elbow on her knee and lets her chin rest on the back of her hand, waiting for him to speak.

Bonnie radiates power and the air around her feels colder or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. What he knows is that Elena's ring is the last of their worries right now, but he supposes he can't just ask her _are you high on black magic?_

"Are you high on black magic?"

Or maybe he can.

"So forward, it takes out all the fun," she says, rolling her eyes – and if anything he can finally recognize for a moment.

"We should negotiate on foreplay time on another occasion," he says. "You see, we have a new vampire in town," he adds, hoping that worry over Elena's condition will make her be herself again.

She becomes serious and she listens carefully while he tells her what happened.

"You need to make her a ring."

"I don't think so," she says, sounding almost bored.

"You're joking, right? You can't-"

"I can," she states, "Actually, _I can_. And I'm sick of being your handyman, cleaning up the mess you guys make. Elena made her choice, mine right now is to let her enjoy some private time so she won't get herself kidnapped, or killed or whatever else she's got on the agenda for this week-end."

She's obviously not herself but she is right. And she is kind of, well, _scorching hot_ right now, so it's a bit distracting.

"We do things my way."

The old Damon would have buried himself in that flesh pulsing with darkness, letting her tangle him in her loose-limbed legs and tie him up with the curly ends of her brown hair, to then taste her for hours just so he could satisfy his curiosity to know if she tasted like chocolate too, other than having only its color. But the new Damon shushes the old one because this is his Judgey, witchy, little bird and when she is not leading the way to the righteous path she is simply someone else. And for how fun the new Bonnie can look, go figure, he just found out that he likes the old one just fine.

They just stare at each other until the moment Bonnie turns her head and an invisible force just pushes him like a bullet out of the door – that closes after his passage – making him roll down the steps, to leave him with his back on the ground and his eyes wide on the sky that's turning red.


	10. Chapter 10

Damon raises his hand, holding the glass half full with _Elijah Craig, _18-years old, single barrel bourbon, his favorite, to press it against his forehead like the freshness of the glass can give him some relief from the horrible pressing of his brain against the walls of his skull.

Everything is a freaking mess and he can barely hold his rage.

Elena is a whining vampire and Bonnie is… The news report flash through his mind: just outside the confines of Virginia, the police found a scalped body; all that was left intact of him was his blond pigtail, visible from under the plastic sheet that covered the body, and his motorbike; and the thought of _Judgey _doing that just threatens to suffocate him.

He snaps, throwing the glass against the wall.

He hadn't gone back to Elena's place and had just called Stefan to let him know that she couldn't have the ring yet. He had hung up on his brother as he asked why, because what could he tell him? _Yes, Bonnie is busy doing her nails and looking like one good fuck. Oh, did I tell you she probably scalped a biker? It will be a _great_ story to tell during holidays._

When Stefan arrives Damon's sitting on the sofa, bent over his knees, holding his head in his hands.

"You were strange over the phone," Stefan tells him, entering the room, "Is everything alright?"

Damon's reaction is a bitter laugh as he raises his head, "Just peachy, little brother," he says letting himself fall against the back of the sofa, "If you don't count the fact that Bonnie is high on black magic and she-" he stops, not ready to say it out loud; the moment he'll say it, it will become real and he can't do that.

"She what?"

"She refuses to make a ring for Elena. Something about not let us use her as handyman or whatever."

Stefan nods and then turns, smelling the wasted bourbon.

"If you waist a glass _Elijah Craig _it must be serious," he says.

"I think she could hurt someone," Damon continues with a low voice, like he can't bear to say the words.

"Maybe I can talk to her or we could let her see Elena and-"

"I assure you, it won't work."

#

It doesn't work.

Elena's eyes fill up with tears when she tells Bonnie, "I thought we were friends," even more so when Bonnie answers her, "_I am_ your friend. You seem to have an odd concept of friendship, though; because it seems to me that I'm your friend only when I do what you want me to do. Which usually means I am invited to parties only to play the target or to take down someone."

And her, "Don't cry, Elena. You know I love you," does no good because the love doesn't reach her eyes anymore.

Stefan doesn't say anything. He looks at her, she looks back at him and he simply _knows_ her mind is stuck somewhere dark and he cannot reach to her.

Jeremy seems to do the trick for a short moment. She looks like something is faltering; she remembers coming back from the dark because of him, because his life was in her hands and she wanted to save him; save the boy she had loved so much and let herself wish a future with, maybe not a happily ever after, but still days to come and kisses and warm embraces.

None of it reaches her when he talks to her with his boyish voice. She can't even pay attention to him and leaves him standing outside her door.

#

Damon closes his eyes, while he stands a few steps from her house. He stays still while he hears her steady heartbeat; it's different than usual, there is a sharper timbre to it but all the same he can tell she is asleep.

That's good, because if she knew what he wanted to do, she would set him on fire, and not in a fun way. He's agile and he places himself on the biggest branch of the tree that allows him to look into her bedroom. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness inside the room and the moon helps him make out the contour of her body under the blankets. Again, he closes his eyes, reaching for her mind. It's like a foreign place, he doesn't know where to slip, where to go, where to find her real self.

The little bird he knows is asleep in a dark mist and he can't do much but watch from the outside. He knows he cannot call to her without the dark rising, so he comes up with the only other option, but to make sure it will actually work he needs to be near her; the glass of the window is a barrier, even for how mediocre it is.

Damon slips inside and towers over her, trying to not make a sound. When she shifts in her sleep he freezes on the spot, fearing she will wake up and ruin all his work, but she just moves making the blanket slip down a bit, just enough to reveal naked shoulders and the beginning of her round breast.

"Fuck," he mouths.

_Seriously? _He asks himself. _Does she sleep in the nude now?_ It's really a shame he must take her away from the dark side. They truly have such delicious habits on the dark side.

After all, he is the bad guy, he cannot be expected to have white pure intention toward this creature that revealed herself so good at giving him sinful wishes, yet he is there in her bedroom doing his best to not take advantage of the situation, not look at her naked skin, not watch the rise and fall of her chest under the blankets. Trying to be _honourable _with her.

Because he respects her.

The very idea would bother him to no end if he hadn't other things in his hands right now.

He just swallows and bends over her, trying to reach her subconscious while he feels a cold aura coming from her, and her scent reaches his nostrils.

This better be working.

#

When she opens her eyes she does not stir, does not turn to look at her clock, but just gets up, letting the blankets fall from her and walks naked to her closet. Dressing is the last thing she does, after packing her bag. She does not really knows what she is doing because she is thinking of nothing; there's just this idea in her head of _needing _to pack and go out as soon as she can: which is twenty minutes.

She gets into her car and drives, and then she parks and goes inside the Salvatore mansion without even knocking because she must be there, needs to be inside and she really wants to know why now.

"What the hell am I doing here?" she asks to a smiling Damon, letting her bag fall to the ground. He looks like the cat that's eaten the canary, so to speak.

"You mean in general, as 'why am wondering the earth, what's the meaning of life in the-"

"Stop playing games, Damon!" she is angry and she looks at him with a scowling face, and then she looks _very _surprised.

"It's not nice of you to try and give me an aneurysm, you know," he scolds her, pointing his index finger toward her, "But I will not hold a grudge, you see? I am definitely the mature one in this relationship."

"My powers!" she says "They're gone!"

Bonnie brings her hands to her chest, and then to her neck, like she's checking herself, yet, there's no trace of fear on her face.

"Now, don't be so catastrophic, your powers are not gone," he says, "You just conveniently forgot how to use them. Conveniently for me, of course," he clarifies, "See, I paid you a little visit last night. It comes out that our little mental connection works splendidly when you're asleep too. That's good because I'd hate to end up scalped. I have such a beautiful skin and we've been together so long that it would hurt me to be separated from it."

Her smile is sinister and he wishes he could just ask her if she did it. Just, he's not sure if he wants to hear her answer.

"I learn fast," she says.

"I enabled your mind," he says shaking his head "You cannot use your power until I let you."

"We'll see," she says, turning to leave, only to stop at the doorway. She can bring herself to put her hand on the knob but not to turn it. She just stays there, stupidly holding the knob for long seconds, every muscle of her body tense 'til it hurts, until he tells her in his most innocent voice, "Oh, did I forgot to mention, you can't leave the house either?"

Bonnie turns around to look at him, and he just slaps himself on the forehead "Silly me!"

She licks her lips and takes a breath, going back to him. Closer this time, so much that he can almost smell her.

"You're fun, in your own way," she admits.

"I feel myself blushing all over," he answers and she holds his eyes.

"I bet you do."

He forgot that this one is not the Bonnie he is used to: the one who would call him names when he embarrasses her; this one does not get embarrassed.

"I am having fun too, you know. And I was _so _boring, wasn't I?" she asks him, getting near. Her chest is almost brushing his and he can't back away without accord some sort of defeat, so he stays still, while she speaks with a _very_ suggestive tone, "This is the new me. Wouldn't you like for us to be _close_ friends?"

He ignores the question. "There was nothing wrong with the old you," his voice low, like he's revealing himself a secret.

She's not pleased by the answer but doesn't give up because she expected a little resistance from him, if anything, to save his face.

"Oh, com'on Damon," she says, letting their proximity work on his nerves, "You could stop being Elena's loyal dog and be mine instead. I don't wanna hurt you, but you know you'll always get the crumbs. And even if I'm always scratching," she says with a hot look, "I'm sure I can make you like it."

Well, he is sure too- if it makes her feel better.

Damon holds her eye and bends his head to reach her mouth. He then stops inches away to spell, "I'm not letting you go," and it makes her mad enough to push him away with all the strength of her seventeen years old body, which is funny, considering that those are the words Bonnie had _always_ wanted for someone to tell her.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: I am very sorry it took me so long to update, I'm having troubles contacting my beta so this chapter has not been checked. I really hope it's not too bad.

#####

Damon stumbles back, more to have a chance to put space between their bodies then because she really had the strength to push him away.

She's angry, her eyes are dense pools of dark green and her full lips are thigh into a line.

"So this is your payback for not letting myself be used like a tool anymore?"

"Paranoid much, aren't we?" he asks, raising his hands like he's surrendering to her "You should think of it as rehab," he explains, "No magic until you live under my roof, young lady!" he tells her mimicking a parental voice.

"I'm not an addict."

"Sure. And I'm not a dashing stallion," he replies, with a flat tone, "We all have our crosses to bear, little bird," he adds, in a more lively tone.

"I'm telling you I'm perfectly fine. In fact, I've never felt so in control in all my life," she almost hisses; her satisfaction so solid that she nearly feels physical pleasure at the idea.

"Yes, that's exactly what I thought you felt, and if you're so sure you're fine all you have to do is show me," he says, shrugging, "I promise to never get on your nerves… _so much_, as I would like at least."

Bonnie does not look pleased at the idea; she just grimaces and calls for "Stefan!" but there's no answer.

"He's with Elena, whom can't come and protect you from the big bad wolf because she can't walk in the sun," he reminds her "Thank you for that, by the way," and – funny as it is - he suspects he's really meaning it.

"I'm not the one that needs to be protected here," she says making him grin.

Bonnie could always play this game and he likes it. She can be dominant while being elegant, and fragile while being strong, and hot while being cold.

"So stay," he says, "Unless you're too scared to fall for my charm, living with me under the same roof and all, but-"

She makes an incredulous sound and looks outraged "You're delusional."

"-I promise to lock my door at night if it makes you feel any better."

Bonnie crosses her arms under her breast. She's all covered, to hide the black veins of magic abuse marking her skin like a conquered territory, but all the same, pushing against the thigh clothes, he can see sweet curves, rounded and high hills which rise and fall with grace and he understands why anything could want to conquer such land of pleasure.

He can be whipped with Elena, but he's far from being blind – and with Bonnie it's just _very_ bad to be anything but.

"Live here for a few days, with no magic, and if it comes out I'm wrong I will crawl at your feet," he says again.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," her tone is a promise and he can just picture what method she will use to make him. He bets she's already making plans about the way she'll make him crawl; sadly none of 'em is what he'd like.

Well, he supposes he's asking for it.

#

She didn't have a chance to have breakfast so she marches into his kitchen and starts scrambling eggs, like it's just natural.

"This feels _so homie,_" he says watching over her shoulder, from behind her, into the pan on the stove "I always knew you wanted to play house with me," he pipes, and she just keeps on cooking, but rises her right foot from the ground and then stomps with in on his right foot.

"Ouch!" he says taking a step back "And I didn't even nibble," he does not say what he wanted to nibble – because he was not thinking of _that _but he wants to make her believe otherwise just to make her a bit angry now that she can't use him as guinea pig. And because making her angry will make her forget what he's trying to do.

She eats her breakfast, while reading a few pages from a book she took in the library, and ignores it. She does both things very well, mind you.

The book is a first edition of _North and South_ by Elizabeth Gaskell and its yellow pages smell like vanilla. From the contiguous room he catches her twice leaning in slightly just to smell it.

It occurs to him that she is into Victorian and generally historically set novels, because he saw her caressing the spine of their copies of the Bronte sisters and Jane Austen's books and her mouth curved into something similar to a smile. Damon can easily picture her wrapped in corsets and petticoats, with strings to undo and skin to uncover, but he suppose it's safer to _stop_ picturing that.

She's deadly set on ignoring him. He thinks she plan to read the entire library. Damon just plans to read _her._

Bonnie picks a guest room and just barricade herself in it; she comes out only when someone rings the bell.

Damon follows her to remind her "You know you can't leave and I don't think you should make me give whoever is at the door a brain washing, because I can just do that."

She does not even turn, just answers "If you don't trust me, you are welcome to follow me," and he does. She can barely hear his steps, for how light they are, but she just knows he does follow her.

The delivery boy looks about two or three years younger than her, and he smiles to her so much that Damon thinks all of his pimples are smiling too.

The boy wears a baseball cap and one earphone, while the other dangles on his striped shirt.

Bonnie is unaffectionately polite as she takes the bag he's offering and all Damon thinks is that a prepubescent snotty should not go around lusting after dangerous witches he's trying to bring back on the good side because he's _that_ generous. Really, he should show some respect here.

"Damon, go ahead," she says turning to him with an annoyed expression, "he's waiting."

"For the puberty?" he asks.

"Pay," she tells him, leaving him standing there while she goes in the kitchen.

The boy nods following the sway of her hips with an expression that says that what he's seeing her carry in the other room is a lash instead of a bag. In his fantasy she's probably dressed in a leather suit, if she is dressed _at all_.

Damon grimaces and obstructs the boy's sight with his body, giving him a scowling look like he's daring him to look at her again, and asking "How much?"

#

"You're a troublesome guest, you know," he says joining her in the kitchen.

Once again all he can see of her is her back, but he'll settle for that since it gives him a rather nice view if he, just slightly, lowers his eyes toward south. Did he say she fills up her jeans quite good?

"Flattering will take you _nowhere_," she informs him, smelling the fresh pears she's taking from the inside of the bag.

"Pears?" he asks, "I figured we could have strawberries and whipped cream, you know, feed each other and then lick-"

"I'm allergic to strawberries," she informs him cutting his monologue short.

"Too bad, but I guess we can find something else to have fun with," he replies, bending to rest his weight on the arms, flat on the marble counter top "And speaking of fun, I don't think you should call the delivery boy anymore," he informs her.

Bonnie turns her eyes in his direction, raising one eyebrow.

"Not to say that your opinion counts, because it doesn't," she says "But why is that?"

"They say people can go blind doing those bad things," he says. He is sure she will be the moaning force behind the boy's hands, so to speak.

Well, he'll make sure to break his fingers if he meets him again.

"_Naughty boy_. He's using me…" she seems to wonder aloud "He must be someone with good taste," she decides, "And it's not like you never used me," she adds looking into her eyes with the same sarcasm coming out from her soft mouth, "One way or the other," she clarifies, "At least his way is harmless and kind of fun. Exactly what I'm _not_ having right now."

She does not worry about anything, and anything belongs to her, only because she decided so. Somehow, he think, _why should be otherwise_? She was born with beauty and grace and strength and she forgot; they all made her forget.

Bonnie needs to come out of this black hole dark magic put into, but all the same, why should the world not fall at her feet?

Where they were all looking when she took the weight upon herself, or when she was brave and alone?

He knows where they were looking; where he is _still_ looking: Elena.

The fridge fills up in a few minutes, and suddenly the kitchen starts to look different. Because she used stoves and stuff and now the place looks _real. _And it does even after she leaves the room to go lock herself in hers.

Damon just shrugs and goes to fix himself a drink; he really hopes this cohabitation will be very, _very_ short.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:**_ this chapter is dedicated to irishcookie._ The song I used is "Careful hands" by Sleeping at Last.

#

Bonnie raises her head at the sound of the knock.

Stefan is leaning against the doorpost with his left shoulder, the knuckles of his right hand still against the wood. He looks at her with bitter serenity. She does not like to think he's seeing himself in her because, whatever it is they think they know about her, she doesn't have a problem.

"Good morning," he says, before walking into the room to sit on a stool. He spent the previous day and night at Elena's place, because she can't still control herself and, without a protection ring, she can't leave the house and see anyone during daylight hours.

"Are you never going to speak to me again?" he says when she keeps on sipping her coffee without answering or even looking at him.

"I don't know," she says. "Are you going to pretend you and your brother didn't trap me here?"

"To be exact it was Damon's doing, but I agree with the result," he says calmly. "I know you can't see it now, but we're doing this for your own good."

"It would really be a first, because you never did a damn thing for me," she bites, before she can even realize what she's saying.

"You're… probably right," he admits, nodding. "I'm trying to be as good a friend as you are for me, I just don't want it to be too late," he adds. And she looks his way for the first time.

"Is there anything you need right now?" he asks.

"You mean, aside from my powers and my freedom back?" she asks sarcastically, while her tense body relaxes slightly.

"I'll take that as a _no," _he says with a smile.

#

"How are the Dark Princess' mood swings going?" Damon asks when he sees Stefan entering the room.

"Are we talking about Elena?"

"Of course we are. I know exactly how Bonnie's mood is going. Which, for the record, is _very bad."_

"Elena is doing well," he says, but Damon knows that Stefan's idea of 'doing well' is pretty different from his, because he lacks his little brother's patience and disposition. Still, he does not push for a more articulate answer, because it's not like he can do much for Elena right now, other than help out her friend. Moreover, if she needs him she only has to say the words and he'll be at her side, she knows that.

"How bad is _very bad_?" Stefan asks.

"You saw for yourself. She's pissed."

"I think all considered she's being civil enough."

"Okay then. Let me rephrase: she's pissed _at me."_

Stefan finds it funny, even reassuring. Bonnie and Damon could never agree on anything; they never even agreed to disagree so it's kind of comforting to note that this has not changed.

He stays around for a couple of hours; he watches Bonnie walking around the house, speaking to them only when strictly necessary, which means that she only says _get out of my way _to Damon when they meet on the doorstep of the library and _it's not like I'm going anywhere, is it?_ to him when he tells her that he'll see her the next day.

#

On the third day of their forced cohabitation Damon is starting to believe he imagined it all, because she's ignoring him and just minding her own business there's no difference whatsoever with her pre-losing-magic days, which is bad because this means he endured her bad mood and holed himself up at home for nothing.

During the evening she snaps at him, but since she made crystal clear that she was not delighted with his plan he doesn't pick up on the sign. When he catches her staring at the knife on the table he doesn't realize she's trying to move it with her mind.

But he does hear the sound of her restless heart when she locks herself in her bedroom, which is right next to his. He listens to the sound of her body turning on the bed, and the rustling of the sheets when she gets up, and the book thrown against a solid surface that he guesses must be the mirror.

He hears her heartbeat change, telling him she's finally fallen asleep, only around dawn. That's when he lets himself fall asleep too.

#

When she gets up he's already in the kitchen, sipping on a mug of coffee mixed with _A plus_ blood. He does not say anything as she walks to the counter top to take the carafe of coffee, still wearing her pajama pants and the tiny shirt that let him see her mocha skin covered in black veins that turn around her neck like a sort of tribal tattoo. She's not really a morning person – he's learned that she does not make a sound before the first sip of coffee - and after a sleepless night he guesses she needs all the calm she can get; moreover she had always covered her body to her chin despite the warm weather so that he would not see the traces of her addiction, so if she does not care to show how black magic has affected her he supposes he had better not piss her off as usual or she'll do something they might regret.

He pretends he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary when he looks at her. He stays around enough to hear her moving, distant enough that she won't see him. It's like walking on eggshells and he was never good at that.

When Stefan comes to check on them she's locked up in her room as her usual and Damon is sure "She would make the house blow up if she had her powers."

"It's that bad?"

"I think it's about to get worse," he says, smiling sarcastically behind the glass of bourbon he's fixed himself.

"Do you want me to hang around?"

"I can manage by myself," he answers sitting on the sofa, and crossing his legs at the ankles, looking up toward his brother.

"Maybe I could bring Elena over tonight," he suggests "She'd be happy to see Bonnie, she's very worried about her."

"I don't know, that could backfire."

"Let's give it a try, if it gets bad we'll leave," he insists.

"Yeah, you mean you'll leave _me_ with a very pissed Bonnie," he says flatly "Sounds like fun."

#

When Damon enters the kitchen a few hours later to tell her that her friend is going to come by the house, he finds her nosily cutting vegetables to make herself dinner.

"Hey there," he says cautiously.

There's a knife missing from the wooden knife block and it's the one for meat. He guess she's in the mood for some gratuitous violence. This looks bad, like a new, shiny level of tremendously bad.

He takes a few steps very slowly and speaks in a low voice so as not to push her. Bonnie is biting her lip so hard he's sure she's going to make it bleed, and both her hands are trembling on the breadboard.

"What do you say I do it instead?" he asks, cautiously reaching for the knife, but she just pulls away.

"Don't!" she says, not looking at him.

"Fine," he says, but it's not fine at all. She's going to chop off her hand if she keeps it up like that. And when she starts cutting again he sees very clearly the blade sinking into her palm. He reaches for her hand and drags her by the sink to put her hand under the water jet but she closes her wounded palm into a fist and asks him "You want to waste my blood?"

He's so thrown by her question that he stops with her hand midair to look at her. Bonnie swallows her saliva and looks like she's about to sell her soul to the devil. Which she probably is.

"You can have my blood," she says, pupils dilated in excitement, thinking about what she can get in exchange "Don't you want it? No fuss and no girls to get rid of after. Just some good, free blood."

"Sure," he says, sarcastically "And in exchange I just have to give you back your magic, don't I?" he asks, not worrying about showing what he truly thinks about her proposal.

To make it clear that he's not falling for her trick he pulls at her arm forcing her hand under the water jet. She shrieks and the other hand holding the knife flies toward his neck.

"What-"

She does not even scratch his skin. He's a vampire, too fast for any human to even _hope_ to harm in such a laughable way, so he twists both her arms behind her back. The new position presses her against his body; breast against chest, breath crushes against breath while she looks up and he stares down at her.

Bonnie jerks in his arms and he holds her wrists together a little harder so that the knife falls from her hand while the smell of her blood and her frustration reaches his nostrils.

"Let me go!" she screams, out of breathe.

"You promise to be good?" he asks, not trusting she will keep her word even if she does promise.

But she doesn't, she just screams again to be let go and jerks, and he forces her against his body to trap her scream into her chest.

"Bonnie, stop," he says, but she doesn't listen.

She just says "I need my magic back," and "You don't understand, I need it!"

She doesn't listen when he says "You don't," and "That black shit is going to kill you," and "Bonnie, stop."

"Just a bit," she begs, "I'll kill you!" she threatens; "Why won't you let me go?" she asks; "I'm dying," she says, because she truly feels like she's dying. Like there's an echo in her body from how empty it feels and it's just unbearable.

"You're not your magic," he tries to tell her, his mouth almost pressed against her ear while she tries to pull away "You're not a container. You're not like this. This stuff will destroy you."

"Why do you care?" she whimpers against his shoulder. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

Damon just holds her, because he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know why he cares. Because, yes, _damn it_, he cares. So what?

"That's a good question," he says, trying to lighten his tone, "Ask me again next time, okay?"

Bonnie feels boneless in his arms. He can smell her salty tears, the blood coming out of her wound onto her palm mixing with the water, the blood that's not coming out from the wounds around her tortured heart. Stefan and Elena inside the house.

_Put your coat on, this city trembles.  
Keep your chin up, as you untangle God._

His hold lightens and when Bonnie moves he's sure she's going to hit him at best she can; she raises her arms and they slip on his shoulders and link around his neck while she presses her face against its curve and dampens her skin with the tears he feels her shedding.

"I can't do this," she whispers with a voice so broken that he is not sure he heard her right. Damon holds her against his body, lowering his head and placing one hand on her hair, as if to shelter her completely.

"You're strong," he murmurs against her ear, choosing to forget about his brother and the girl watching them. "You can do it,"

_We are X-rays of something broken.  
Cursive bloodlines write every forecast:  
An orchestration of dissonance and innocent surrender._

#

Elena covers her mouth with both hands trying to not cry at the sight of her best friend broken, and Stefan pulls her away to leave his brother and Bonnie alone. His friend is too vulnerable now, and if Damon has managed to make a connection with her they don't have to risk it.

#

_When our color dies,  
We will bury the ashes of time,  
And we will earn new eyes._

Damon doesn't really know how long he holds her, and he doesn't really care to know. He stops only when he feels her calming down in his arms, and just to guide her to the bathroom to clean her wounded hand. Bonnie doesn't look at him as he moves around to take the medicine chest; she's just surprised they have one considering that only vampires live in the house.

Then she remembers Alaric and she wonders if Damon is still sad because he lost the person who was pretty much his only friend. Only in that moment does she raise her eyes to look at him; beautiful blue eyes fixed on her skin, mouth pouting in concentration, two lines gracing his immaculate forehead.

_Only with careful hands  
We'll turn their fangs into feathers and cures.  
_

Bonnie's mouth curves with the ghost of a smile.

The physical need for magic still make her ache but something is tugging at her heartstrings and it feels painfully good. She just wants to rest now.

"All done," he says and she looks at her hand bandaged with white gauze, held together by a double knot.

"I should put _professional nurse_ on my _résumé_, right under _serial killer_," he jokes. "If I had a _résumé_, that is."

"I'll make sure to provide excellent references," she says with a weak voice, keeping her eyes on the bandage. She's tired, and embarrassed by _where _her unfortunate breakdown ended up.

Damon feels uneasy. One way or another they always end up cut open and bleeding in front of each other. It's unsettling. He feels like there's no space between them. Like she's still pressed against him, and has the awkward suspicion he'll feel that way forever.

_Only with careful hands  
We'll divide the prisoner  
From the pioneer._

"I heard the door," he says, changing the subject. "I think Stefan and Elena are here."

Bonnie's body tenses up and she bites at her lower lip, already reddened from previous chewing.

"It's okay if you don't feel like having company," he says, feeling her agitation. "You can say hi and go up to your room. They'll understand."

Elena will understand, after feeling hurt, because she's good at being the victim, the damsel in distress, expecially now that she's a vampire and every feeling is amplified. But even if he loves her, she'll just have to get over it.

"Yeah," she says, turning to go to the drawing room.

At her arrival Elena gets up from the sofa and smiles at her with big glossy eyes and a worried expression.

"Bonnie," she says, relieved. "I- I'm so glad to see you."And she moves her eyes between her friend and Damon, who stays behind Bonnie like he's her shadow cast on the ground.

"Me too," Bonnie says, taking an uncertain step, with Damon following her. "I just, I really need to rest," she adds, grimacing, holding her hands together. "Do you mind?".

"Of course not," Elena's smile falls a little but she doesn't protest "It's okay, I understand," she says, as she and the Salvatores follow Bonnie's exit with their eyes.

"I need to take some air," Damon says, holding Elena's gaze. "See you later," he adds, glancing at his brother.

"Sure" Stefan says. And it's only a matter of seconds before they hear the front door closing behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

"What happened here?" Her question comes out with the high pitch of panic as she places her open hands on his chest and looks up into his eyes, to extract the answers from them before he can even think of what to say to her.

He holds her by the shoulders, brushing the palms over them before actually gripping, looking fixedly into her eyes, to reassure her. "Everything's alright," he says and his voice is firm, so much so that she's tempted to believe him.

"There's blood on the kitchen floor!" she insists, frustrated by the fact that he won't tell her what she wants to know.

"Bonnie wounded her hand while she was cutting the vegetables, that's all," he reassures her again, moving to get to the period cabinet where he keeps the best bottles of bourbon.

He would like nothing more than to comfort her, but he's tired and she looks at him like she's trying to decide whether to accuse him or hold him. So he doesn't reach for her cheek, the way he would normally.

"I don't believe you!"

"Elena, calm down." Stefan's voice makes her turn around and she shakes her head, as if none of the brothers can really understand her worry. Bonnie is part of her family and there's nothing she can do for her.

"I can't," she replies in a lament. Stefan comes close to take her hand and guide her to the sofa, while Damon pours himself a bourbon. Once he's done he sits opposite them and massages the base of his neck with one hand.

The cool air of the night has dried the fabric, yet he can still feel his shirt damp with Bonnie's tears.

"I need to know the truth, Damon," she says. Her eyes seem to plead with him.

"I already told you, Elena."

"She can cook perfectly well," she says. "She's been making meals for herself since she was ten," she insists.

Damon can picture her: the delightful child she was at ten, with her hair up in a ponytail, kneeling on a chair next to the stove because she was too short to reach them on her own.

"She was trembling from withdrawal," he explains. "It's okay now."

"How can you say that?" she protests, her bafflement getting the better of her, "You don't care for her, but it's different for me. I can't go away and leave her alone to face all this."

Damon looks at her, disconcerted and uncomfortable. He told her so many times that he doesn't care for anyone's life but hers that he's almost ready to say those words again - with the feeling of a broken record - before Stefan cuts in.

"Damon is helping her, you saw him," he reminds her, covering one of her hands with his. "I know you would like to be there for her. She knows that too, but you can't right now."

"I know," she admits. "But what if she hurts herself on purpose next time?"

"She won't," Damon says. "She's not a coward."

As if she was not an addict, before it all got out of her hands. And she was not a killer, before – probably - killing a guy.

"You don't know," she insists. "We should do something!"

"Like _what_?" Damon asks, losing his patience and opening both his arms like to surrender to the bad mood she's inducing in him. His drink spills from the glass and lands on the carpet; the Persian one, he always liked that carpet and now it needs urgent cleaning. _Great_.

"I don't know," she answers. "Maybe we could tie her up, during the night, so she won't do anything extreme."

"What?" Damon's expression is one of hilarity, but his eyes are wide and sarcasm drips from him even before he can grimace. "She's not an animal!"

It's ridiculous she could even think of such a solution; as if it could accomplish anything but to humiliate her.

"No one is going to tie her up," Stefan says, trying to make both of them be reasonable."Elena is just worried," he says to his brother, looking straight at him.

"I know," Damon says before taking a sip of his drink. He needs a barrel of it.

"I'll stay here tonight, just in case," Stefan informs them. "That way we'll all be more at peace."

"Sure, little brother," Damon answers. "I can't wait for the pajama party."

#

"You should rest," Stefan says to his brother, for the third time in the last two minutes.

"You keep talking to me and I'll fall asleep in the middle of this exciting conversation," Damon answers, as they both head upstairs.

"That's one way to put you to sleep."

"When you say it like that you make me suspect you want actually tuck me in and read me a story," he says horrified, as they walk to their respective rooms.

"You got any preference?" Stefan asks, keeping up the joke.

"Oh, I like all of them," Damon says, before turning his head toward his brother and titling it to the side, to add, "in their porno version, of course. But I think it would be awkward for you to read me that, little brother."

"Probably," he admits, with a nod, "Do they exist?" he asked in a sudden moment of curiosity.

"Are you for real?" the other one asks, showing his disconcertment, stopping three steps away from Stefan's room. "Now I know what to give you for Christmas," he decides. "What do you prefer, _Naughty Cinderella_ or _Ravishing Rapunzel_?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Then I'll choose," he says, going to his bedroom's door.

Stefan sees him stealing a glance to Bonnie's bedroom door, which is exactly in between theirs; hands slow on the knob, eyes empty while he concentrates on listening to the movements of the girl inside.

"I don't need to sleep," he says, turning the knob and looking in front of him, "I'll take care of her if she needs anything."

"Sounds perfect," is Damon's bored answer.

#

As he lies on the bed, Damon absently taps his fingers on his stomach and listens intently to the rustling sound of sheets in the next room. Her unstable heartbeat. The sound of the mattress when she gets up and then goes back to bed.

Stefan told him he would have taken care of her, and he knows that his righteous brother will not break his word, yet he can't help listening even if he tells himself it does not concern him. She does not concern him tonight.

But the truth is, he can only manage to sleep when she sleeps too.

#

Stefan sits in a chair, absent-mindedly reading a book. His mind is on Bonnie, one wall apart from him, fighting daemons in her head, whom he knows way too well; he remains on the same line of the book for half a hour.

The hard cover is smooth against his hand as it lies open on its palm.

"_Then you must teach my daughter this same lesson. How to lose your innocence but not your hope. How to laugh forever."_

#

Stefan gets up from the floor once he hears the sound Bonnie is making inside the room. He brushes away the dust from his jeans and raises his head when she opens the door only to find himself with his back against the wall.

He couldn't read nor do anything else so he spent the night guarding her door from any danger, even if her true enemy is inside her, and he ended up falling asleep just one hour before.

"What are you doing?" she asks, perplexed.

"Nothing," he answers quickly. "Want to join me for breakfast?"

It takes her a moment to get back to the conversation, because she hates to talk before having her coffee, but as she's about to answer him the sound of a door opening and closing again stops them, and they both turn to see Damon walk in between them and pass them by, saying "I don't know about you, but I really need a coffee."

"After you," Stefan says, bowing lightly.

#

When they join Damon in the kitchen he's pouring them coffee. Stefan can smell the metallic scent of blood mixed with the strong, earthly edge of caffeine.

Bonnie takes a mug already filled with dark, hot liquid and Stefan is pretty sure she chose the only mug without blood. It suddenly occurs to him that she didn't need to know where the blood was, because she simply took the mug she usually takes. She took _her _mug. She actually has a mug that belongs to her, even if everything in the house is theirs, and Damon knows which one it is.

Bonnie leans with her elbows against the counter top and sips her coffee looking like she wants to sleep for another day or two; Damon takes a bite from a butter biscuit.

They often eat human food, hoping that one day they will get to remember how it really tastes, because all they can actually taste is just a shadow of it.

"Will you stay around today?" Damon asks Stefan, completely ignoring the girl in the room.

"I have to leave for a few hours, but I'll come back as soon as I can," he says, regretting the fact that he has to leave them alone.

"No big deal."

Once Bonnie's mug is half emptied Damon looks at her, to tell her "Morning, little bird."

"Morning Damon."

"We have eggs and milk if you want to make breakfast, but I think you'll have to ask for another delivery."

"Yeah, no problem."

"I'm welcoming pimply pervert this time," he states.

"No, you're not," she grimaces. "You're going to scare him."

He looks like he's waiting for her to add something, then says, "I still have to hear what the flaw is in my plan."

"You're impossible," she accuses him.

"That's part of my charm, Judgy," he grins.

"I don't know what the problem is here," Stefan says, cutting into their oddly intimate routine. "But I can go and buy whatever you need," he tells Bonnie.

"Thank you, desperate housewife."

The girl doesn't listen to Damon's comment, instead looking at Stefan with the ghost of a smile.

Stefan always had the capacity to slip under her skin with his gentlemanly manners, and even if she can feel black magic whispering to her that he's a puppet to dispose of, she wants to let herself feel for him again.

It's like Damon made a hole in the walls around her heart the night before, and now she gets to look at the world through that hole. And she kind of misses it.

"That would be okay," she nods to his gentle gaze, "I'll make you a list."

"Sure."

**Note:** The book Stefan is reading in this chapter is _The Joy Luck Club _by Amy Tan.


	14. Chapter 14

When Stefan gets up from the chair, leaving right after her white pawn on f5 took his via _en passant_ on g6 (Bonnie suspects he's letting her win enough to keep the game going and thinks it's sweet of him) she's disappointed, most of all she's nervous at the thought that she's about to be alone in the house with the other Salvatore.

Damon is usually a wild card; she managed their enmity well for a long time, even enjoyed the polite aggressions at each other expenses, but now he became the one she cried in front of, the one who held her. He forced her to see this unknown side of him and she feels frustrated.

It was so much better when she could protect him treating his well-being like a collateral damage she could not avoid if she wanted to keep the others alive.

Her life is getting out of hand and – looking at her white pieces on the chessboard - she feels like she's about to lose it.

#

She usually likes her coffee black but she feels a bit low on her spirit so she looks for the sugar holder in the kitchen's closet and she opens a drawer to take a spoon; that's when she realizes there are no knives in the drawer, and the wood knives block on the counter is not there anymore.

"What the hell!" she says, putting down the mug to go to Damon, whom is watching tv in another room, sprawled on the coach.

"Where are all the knives?" she asks, with an imperious tone.

Damon was never one to acknowledge humans enough to let them get easily on his nerves; he still barely take notice the existence of many of them, and at the same time he's used to his sparring sessions with Bonnie so he shouldn't feel his patience already slipping, but he does.  
With each passing minute – as she was playing with his brother and he was stuck to think - something he couldn't decipher started to corner him and now it's just hard to contain himself, because this mess is her fault and she has even the nerve to use that tone with him.

"Exactly where I put them," he says, flatly.

She made him feel _so close _to her, made him feel so _human _and he's too frustrated to be patient now.

"Who do you take me for? Huh?" she asks, placing herself in front of the tv screen.

Damon's reaction is to raise one eyebrow, because he was doing zapping and he was not holding his breath – figuratively speaking – to watch _Seventh Heaven_ reruns. God spare him, he hasn't even got a rope to hang himself.

"Bonnie Bennett, pain in the ass extraordinaire," he answers with a sarcastic grin.

This battle of wills is familiar, reassuring. He wants to go on until the moment when he feels like he doesn't want to see her face for the next decade _minimum_.

If she wants to pick a fight he's all for it.

"You keep on forgetting that the one needing a babysitter here is you."

"That's a favorite fantasy of mine, how did you know?" he asks, faking an amazed expression, "Are you trying to volunteer?"

"If you were the last male being on the planet I would still pick celibacy," she spits between her teeth.

She wants to press down on the accelerator of this mess they're so eagerly getting into, so that she'll soon find herself in the place she was before. The place where she could pretend Damon Salvatore was nothing to her.

"That's why you're so bitter," he says, "But if I was actually the last male on earth, I would still be too busy making necklaces with bottle's crown caps to take any notice of what your Judgy persona has _not_ to offer."

It stings. She's not the one surrounded in suitors and love proffers. She's never the one that turns heads in the room. She's the one that can only aspire to hold the gaze of her friend's little brother until he realizes even a ghost is better than her, and his words sting.

"You're insufferable," she accuses him, "And the only way for me to use a knife not to prepare lunch would be to kill myself before you could even _think _of touching me with one finger."

If he was ever anything, it was being _attractive _to women, as long as they didn't know his feeding habits; he has that power. He can charm a woman with a smile and have her wrapped around his fingers. Maybe they don't fall in love with him, but still they want him, desire him. Women pretend they don't see him once he enters the room but fail, swooning and throwing glances his way, blushing from head to toe.

But with her he's powerless, more so since they knocked down that first wall and he _saw_ her.

And he hates it.

"That's because, as we saw, you're insane beyond saving," he bites back, angry.

And that silences her. She was just about to say something but she closes her mouth and looks like she's running away, even if she stands still in front of him.

_Fuck. _They both got what they wanted, didn't they?

Just, he doesn't feel pleased about it. He does not want this but he doesn't know how to take it all back.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, getting up.

"Yes, you did."

She's suddenly sober from her rage. He couldn't even catch the hurt in her eyes before they went blank.

And he doesn't find anything to say other than "Wait-"as she turns her back and disappears behind the door, leaving him standing there like an idiot.

#

Damon raises his fist to knock at her door, but stops his hand midair.

He can hear her on the other side; has been listening to her for the past ten minutes. Her heartbeat fast and heavy, and he thinks that she probably was being angry and snappy because of another crisis approaching.

Of course he had to ruin everything, just because he got _scared._

Maybe she needs him now. Maybe she needs him and he called her _insane_, and now there's no way she'll let him get near again, and as he amply demonstrated, he is unable to put together the right words for a proper apology, worthy to be called as such.

He was too proud to apologize to his father when it was his filial duty, too hurt to apologize to Stefan whenever he was wrong in blaming him; always too much something, or too little something else.

Damon lowers his hand and leaves her door.

But the idea of Bonnie doesn't leave him. This is why he starts playing.

He hasn't done it in a while. It's usually his strangest way to soothe himself; because music reach feelings and he's not been ready to admit he had any for such a long time.

But it usually works somehow, and maybe it will work for her too, he thinks.

Maybe she'll lay down on her bed and will listen to the music, and won't hate it because she won't know it's him.

This is why he starts playing.

He picks _Nyman_ first, and then switches to _Einaudi, _and that's when he hears her.

Her light steps on the linoleum's floor. Her heart beating on the other side of the closed door.

And he mutters under his breath. He begs "Come in," knowing she won't hear him over the music.

"Please," he mouths, not making a sound "I'm sorry, come in," while his fingers dance over the keys.

At the end of the song she's still not coming in, but she's still not going back.

Bonnie is stuck in the hallway, or whatever place in her heart she decided to hide herself into.

And Damon starts playing again. He will keep playing, calling to her and waiting for her to turn the knob and come to him for as long as it takes.

It feels so important that she comes to him now. So important.

He has his eyes closed when she crosses the space, giving in to that calling she feels. He can hear her step, her heartbeat that's closer and it takes a moment for him to find the courage to open his eyes to see if she's really there.

Bonnie has her hands on the varnished wood of the piano and listens intently to the music, so much that he's not sure she realized he's there too. But then she turns her eyes on him, and one corner of her mouth goes up, and even if it's not really a smile is something close to it. It's something.

"It was beautiful," she says.

He moves on the stool to let some space for her, and points to it with his chin. His eyes smile.

"Want me to play again?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Any preference?" he asks, again.

"The one you were playing just now," she says "What's the name?"

"_Nuvole bianche_," he answers, "It means _White Clouds_."

"What's it about?"

"What everything's about, little bird," he says, "love."

"But it's not a happy one…"

"Not exactly."

And he starts playing again.

It's been awhile, and he doesn't like to have an audience, but it's okay for her to stay; he's glad that she loves it, and even if his hands are sore because he is out of practice he can play for her until his fingers bleed and fall off.

He's in the middle of another piece when he raises his eyes to see Stefan entering the room. If he's surprised by the picture of them sitting next to each other on the piano stool, he doesn't show it.

Stefan smiles at Bonnie offering her his hand, to ask her "My lady, would you grant me this honor?"

It's so like Stefan to just walk in and charm the girl into doing whatever. And he doesn't need to manipulate or use smile number 43 to do it. His brother is the prince of the fairytale, the ultimate gentleman, the man of honor, and he is proud of him, even if at times, like now, he would _really_ like to kick his ass.

Damon keeps on playing, and turn his head over his shoulder to look at the dancing couple when he hears Bonnie's giggle.

He pushes his open hands flat against the keyboard and the music ends abruptly.

Stefan and Bonnie turn to him, confused, and he turns on the stool to shrug and say "Tired."  
His brother holds his eyes; he knows him from forever and there's no need for him to say the words to understand that Damon is bothered.

"It's fine," Stefan says, "Bonnie and I do have a game to resume, don't we?"

#

He's bored and he doesn't care who Bonnie chooses to play with or who she chooses to smile to. In fact, it's only better for him if Stefan decides to keep her occupied, so he can have back his freaking life.

So he can go back to Elena.

To Elena and her big, brown doe eyes, which now look up to him amazed.

"I thought you were still mad at me," she says with a timorous voice that always make him feel like comforting her.

"I could never be mad at you," he says, and it feels somehow good to be back here. Be back to her, be back to this relationship, because this is something he can manage. He knows how it works, he knows how to move. It's like a dance he has mastered perfectly.

She'll let him come close, then will take a step back. He'll take one forward, and she'll take half one towards him to then move to the side. He'll let her turn around him, then will take her hand to lead her until she'll go to his brother's side.

It's like a dance from the XIX century, and he's always been a great dancer.

Damon cups her face with both hands and look at her face: there's a tearful look painted there, and she looks very fragile, needy. Needy of him – he doesn't care if she needs Stefan too; if she always needs Stefan _more_.

Elena, oddly enough, makes everything easier. There's nothing unknown with her. No uncertain, no unexpected anything.

She always had his eyes, because she looked like Katherine. She always held his hope, because she was nothing like Katherine. He knows that when she is in the room he'll look at her, and he doesn't expect any less.

"Now that Caroline is away and Bonnie…" she doesn't finish her sentence, just leaves Bonnie's presence hung for a second between them, "Now more than ever, I need you," she says, "I don't want to fight with you anymore".

And it feels so good to hear her say that, even if she means that she needs him _and_ Stefan. Even if she already made her choice and it wasn't him.

He doesn't know why being lead around by her feels so safe now. He doesn't care to know.

#

Note: this chapter is been checked out by 1beaut (thank you again).


	15. Chapter 15

Note: my 45 minutes oral and double exam from hell went bad, but I'm still very grateful for your support and your prayers so I thought I could show my appreciation with chapter 15. I hope you'll enjoy it.

#

She looks very small sitting on one side of the sofa; her eyes down in her mug while she puts a stray of hair behind her ear. She looks so tiny that he thinks that the mouth of the monumental fireplace behind her could just swallow her whole.

Stefan has one knee down on the floor and his right hand brushes her knee gently as a supportive gesture.

"What did I miss?" Damon asks, entering the room.

Bonnie closes her eyes for a few seconds before letting her lashes go up again, but she doesn't look at him.

"Everything's fine," Stefan answers him, but he's clearly reassuring Bonnie, using a very gentle tone, "Her stomach is troubling her a bit, but it will be fine after she rests for awhile."

There's a thin layer of perspiration on her forehead and she looks paler, but she manages to press her lips together into a fake smile before saying, "Yeah, I'm feeling better already."

"Do you want me to accompany you to your room?" Stefan asks in a low tone as not worsen her state, brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek.

Damon can only stand there and watch his brother take care of her.

"There's no need to, I can do that by myself," her voice is tense, like she can't resist more than that and yet, she is unable to admit that there's something she needs help with.

So typical of her – Damon thinks – she could be on the verge of death and she would still answer that she could handle it by herself. He doesn't want to compare her to Elena, doesn't want to have any doubt about who's better in his eyes.

"I know," Stefan answers like he didn't notice the change in her body-language, "But it would be very generous of you to make me feel useful every now and then."

She doesn't nod because the motion could make her feel sick again, but she rests her hand on his shoulder and he picks her up, holding her with one arm around her waist.

"Thanks," Stefan says with a smile.

Damon moves to the side to let them pass by, and tries to not look at their backs – failing.

It's doesn't bother him to not be the one helping her; the one she's pressed against. It doesn't bother him if Stefan puts her to bed, brushes away the hair from her forehead, or sits on her bed, waiting for her to feel better; really, it doesn't.

Bonnie is not his prerogative.

#

"How's Elena?" Stefan asks, fixing himself a drink while Damon is sprawled on the sofa.

"Oh, little brother, are we jealous?" he asks, fishing for a little satisfaction, "I'll let you know, she had a big smile on her face when I was done with her."

Stefan grins bitterly, sitting opposite his brother.

"I'm not jealous," he says, and Damon thinks that he's probably telling the truth.

Stefan has nothing to do with petty feelings. Even if he believed Elena actually favored Damon, he would never feel jealous; hurt, destroyed maybe, but not jealous.

Sometimes it gets on Damon's nerves; it's like his brother is too superior, his own feelings are too inferior, and he can never get it right because they love just so differently.

Stefan loves with all of his trust; Damon loves with all of his desperation.

Stefan treats love like a treasure that is not for him to keep in the first place, so if he ever looses it he can't blame anyone. Damon thinks that if you try enough, if you do enough, if you hold on enough, it will submit itself sooner or later; it _has _to.

God knows that he has tried hard enough.

"I know everything's changed," Stefan admits and Damon can't help but listen because this is something important for his brother, "Turning has been a big deal for her, and now she's curious about her actual nature," he pauses to add, "I suppose it's possible that she is conflicted about new possibilities."

"And with possibilities you mean _me_?"

"Probably," Stefan answers seriously after a long moment.

Damon cannot answer to that, cannot begin to understand what he'd feel if Elena turned up to his door, asking him to elope or something like that. He fantasized about that sometimes; he had fantasized, or at least he had tried to fantasize about her accepting his love and the dark, thrilling adventure he offered her.

But Elena, more than anything, loved of him what she could turn into Stefan, and so in his fantasy, his character was castrated or she was completely out of hers and the pieces never really fit. Now that she is a vampire, now that she has as much darkness inside as he has in his past, maybe she can really choose _him_.

He likes to think that.

#

He wants to stay there sprawled on the sofa, enjoying his drink, staring lazily at the amber liquid trapped by the walls of his crystal glass. He wants to stay there, relish into the memory of Elena's eyes looking into his, taste the crumbles she's so good at letting fall from the table and into the mouth of her loyal dog. Rejoice in Stefan's doubts – even if Damon swearing that they are true still won't make them possible, because he knows better.

He wants to do all those things and not wonder if Bonnie is sleeping; but the mind works in its own way.

Damon is there, recalling about the girl he loves – about Elena – and suddenly, a voice inside his head asks why Bonnie didn't look at him when he came back. He is wondering if there's a chance that Stefan is falling behind in Elena's heart – and a whisper of bitter curiosity asks him if Bonnie loved the feeling of his brother's body pressed against her and if she would rather it was his brother taking care of her.

And, for him, acting was never the step that came after thinking.

This is why he goes upstairs, wearing a sarcastic smile and his best poker face; he'll have fun with her nerves, the words are already playing on his tongue: '_Did my little brother kiss it better?_' Or maybe, '_Did you two enjoy playing doctor?'_

It's not like he cares, of course, but he'd like for her to recognize the fact that he tried to help. He'd like for her to stop wearing that hard expression almost all of the time.

He wants to give her a piece of his mind, when he finds her on the floor, on the doorstep to the guest bathroom. Her whole body is shivering violently, her eyelids batting uncontrollably. From the sound she makes he realizes she's choking on something.

"Bonnie!" he says, slipping one hand under her head to raise her towards him, kneeling and bending over her, "Can you hear me?"

There's a violent breath in, in this new position and her eyelids slow down their batting.

"Y-yes," her voice is broken, but he can hear the fierceness in it.

He pulls down the neck of her sweater to see the thick blackness of the veins throbbing with the lack of dark magic in her system. There's a hiss coming from her throat, like her lungs are overwhelmed and she's choking again.

Damon pulls her up, holding her around her waist. She holds on to him with her hands on his shoulders and tries to bow her head to the side, desperate for air.

Her head is weak and it swings a bit on her neck. Her legs don't steady her and Damon doesn't dare to leave her. Her head is nothing more than a dead weight, and her eyes roll back into her head showing white.

"It's the withdrawal again," he says trying to reassure her, "it will pass soon," he says before feeling the throbbing of her stomach against his lap.

"Fuck," he mutters while she spasms into his arms. There's something choking her from the inside and if it doesn't come out right now she'll suffocate.

"You need to throw up!" he says, dragging her into the bathroom and bending her over the toilet. One hand presses against her stomach while holding her up, and the other brushes back the hair from her face while he orders, "No fuss. Let it out!"

On the cutting pressure of his hand her body jerks from the pain and her eyes wet but she doesn't cry. Her mouth waters and he angles his wrist to focalize the pressure into one point. She breathes hard and her hands reach out to hold on something but the spasms prevent her from finding anything.

"Com'on," he says, "Com'on, do it."

Her mouth waters, and her pained cries are suffocated by something that invades her throat as well as her mouth. Her spine bends violently while a black, dense substance falls into the ceramic.

It takes almost two whole minutes for her spasm to calm down and her body to go limp. Damon sees the substance, as dark and dense as pitch, moving against the ceramic, forming trickles that stretch out fast to try and enter a new vessel, and so he holds Bonnie up, pressing her back against his chest, letting her head rest against his shoulders while he watches in amazement the sinister show.

She pants from the effort and the throbbing inside her body is much lighter. The substance in the toilet eventually starts to move slower until it becomes harder; Damon flushes the toilet and watches it disappear before dragging Bonnie to the washbasin to clean her mouth with water.

He uses his own hands to bring the clean liquid to her lips and she spits it out immediately, shaking her head and trying to push him away.

"What?" he asks confused, still not letting her go completely, "Are you feeling sick again?"

Her breath becomes harsher and she bows her head to not look him in the eyes.

"I did-" a cry chops off her words, "I did _that. _He was- I did, oh God_, _h-how could I?"

Black magic is not clouding her mind anymore and everything is getting clearer now. _Everything_. She sees Klaus' rotten body and Bruce and everything else; it's like a cubist painting suddenly making sense in her eyes.

Damon is starting to put the pieces back together too, but he decides that he is not interested in it. Not anymore.

"You did nothing," he says in a tone that is almost jovial, but she is not listening.

"I did- that boy, you don't know-"

He cuts her off before she can actually admit anything.

"Yeah, I'm gonna cry over him another time," he says bored, "You need to rest right now," but all she does is keep her face down and shake her head, holding herself up against the washbasin.

"I can't," she cries out. She'd rather have him listing all of her faults then have him trying to diminish something so shameful.

Bonnie feels so dirty, so hypocritical. No one will ever forgive her; she knows she cannot forgive herself. Every certainty is lost.

Grams must be so _ashamed_ of her.

She's always been the one repeating to Damon that he was a killer, a monster. He was not to be trusted. She always syndicated his choices, his every move; she accused him to be irresponsible, selfish and cruel. _Oh, look who's talking, _a voice inside her head tells her_. _At least he never hid the dirt under the carpet.

"They won't forgive me, how could they?" she whispers to herself.

"This is not the moment for a conscience crisis," he reminds her with no result.

"I even lectured you-"

"That's okay," he cuts her words, "It's not like I was really listening," he assures her, trying to calm her down, "Or like I didn't deserve it all," he shrugs, still not letting her get away from him, "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

He wants to joke about what he can do to her to make her forget, but it doesn't seem like a good moment for that and then she talks again.

"I can't-" she repeats, "I-I'm a… a _monster,_" her voice is disgusted and his patience is over. That's it.

He holds up her face, holding her chin between his thumb and his index finger, forcing her green eyes to look into his, icy with rage, "You say that again and - I swear to God - I'm gonna raze this _miserable_ town to the ground," he hisses, "Then you'll _really _have something to feel guilty about."


	16. Chapter 16

He's about to ask her _Are we clear?_ Gritting his teeth like he's about to just bite off the doubts on her head, but she looks so lost and he realize he's been an ass for talking her that way, even if his intentions were good. He remembers what paves the road to hell, after all.

Damon looks down, then back to her green eyes.

"I didn't mean to-," but what can he say? This whole thing just fell upon them, out of nowhere, and she just vomited hell, and he's not the one in charge of the healing; he's only good at breaking.

_Seems to matter what I say, so I'll hold my tongue at bay  
And rather use my mouth to kiss your frown away  
So your doubts no longer darken your day  
So you can hold your head up high come what may_

"It wasn't you," he says, gentler but firm, "The stuff went to your head, that's all. It wasn't you, and you need to accept the fact that you can't always control everything."

Bonnie's eyes are glossy and he's sure her conscience can't be calmed with a few, useless words but he can't do anything more.

Damon guides her to her bed and her mind is miles away as she let's him move her like a beautiful doll. He draws away the blankets and once she lies down on the bed he tucks her in.

He wants to ask her if she feels any better, if there's anything in the world he can do to make her feel better but the first question is stupid and the second one is probably egocentric, and he brushes away all the nagging in his head to leave her to rest.

She doesn't even look at him. He could do anything to her right now and she would not even flinch.

It's not like she never ignored him before, but this new silence is just so lifeless, so terrible.

He can stay or he can go and she will not know the difference.

#

When she turns on lamp the on nightstand it's barely five in the morning. The clock says so.

Her eyelids feel heavy, her temperature arose under the blankets and when she sat up to move them she saw something on the floor, just next to her bed. This is how she found herself staring down at Damon Salvatore, laying on his back with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

Too much has happened to be scared about something so small. The turmoil of emotion left her empty but all the same something tightens in her chest, giving her a sort of odd pain.

"I wasn't snoring," it's the first thing he tells her, even if she didn't say a word.

Damon open one eye, then the other, pouts his mouth and looks at her.

"What are you doing here?" She usually sounds a lot more pissed when she feeds him this line. The blankness doesn't suit her, he thinks.

"I felt tired and was too lazy to move," he tells her.

"This is my room," she says, like she can't bring herself to make up a whole, real sentence.

"Technically," he says, "Since this is my house, the room belongs to me and so does anything that's inside of it."

_Do I belong to you too? _She wants to ask but she is so tired, she can't put herself into this conversation, nor she can look away from him.

And Damon holds her eyes and even if his mouth is smiling, his eyes are not.

"You should sleep in a bed," she suggests, expressionless.

"I'd like that," he says with a grin, "Are you offering?"

It takes him a moment to let his brain absorb the fact that she is sliding on the other side of the bed leaving him enough space to lay down with her. He even feels unstable on his feet as he stands to place himself next to her.

_So please remember that I'm gonna follow through all the way_

The place he lays down on is warm and smells like her. Bonnie is turned to the side so that all he can see is the back of her head.

He reaches out behind him to turn off the light and turns his head to look at her.

"Bonnie?" he calls her name with a low voice to not disturb her. He knows she can't possibly have fallen asleep already, but she doesn't answer him.

"Fine," he says, still keeping his voice down, "I wanted to be the good boy and ask you for permission but, since you're asleep, the silent assent will have to do."

He turns on his side too, and puts himself right behind her. She's tense but doesn't say a word.

_Oh my love, if it's all I can do, I'll take the fall for you_

"Don't move away," he says, "Don't freak out, don't scream," he adds, "I'm about to put my arm around your waist because I think that one of us could really use some human contact here," he cannot swear he's talking about her, "If you can't contain your repulsion you have plenty of time to let me know graciously since I'm moving really slow here, but, even so, I will not take a no as an answer because I'm not _that_ gentlemanly, so bear with me," he explains, while his arms are inches away from her clothes and the skin and bones and pain under them.

His arm closes her in and holds her safely against his chest.

Damon can hear her breathing in the dark, and then her voice.

"I hate you," she says, like she's letting go of something and her tense body trembles before relaxing altogether. Bonnie's hand falls on his, placed on her abdomen.

"I know," he says, smiling against her hair.

'_Cause I will soar when I lay down with you and give my all for you_

#

When he wakes up she's in the same position she fell asleep into. He's still holding her. She's still letting him. He pushes away the thought that _nothing _he ever did with a woman felt this intimate.

Leaving the bed feels almost unsettling, but she needs her rest and she needs to eat- in this order.

Damon disappears from her room to make sure to provide her with both things, and when he's done scrambling eggs, making coffee, preparing orange juice and heating up the croissant – basically being her personal Martha freaking Stewart – he goes back to force her to come down and eat something. He'll push it down her throat with a stick if he has to.

When he opens both the door and his mouth to call her name, holding her mug of coffee in one hand, she's not in bed. The bathroom door is ajar, and the steam coming out from the inside smells like her skin and her honey bath foam. He takes two steps forward and it's not his fault if his eyes fall on the mirror visible from the open door.

It's covered in steam and he can barely make out colors, but his mouth is suddenly dry.

_Sweet Jesus, I'm on fire  
She has the sweetest, darkest side_

Damon can picture the water pouring down on her tonic body. He can see the drops running down her, consuming themselves against her skin, batting against her cleavage, her round breasts, can see her hands traveling along her own curves to soap and wash herself. He can see her head titled up, eyes closed, to feel the water jet against her face and can see her hands push back her hair that sticks to her naked back and then they reach out so that her palms are flat against the tiles, and her mouth is open because of the soothing she's savoring, and he realizes his breath is harsher.

_And when it comes into her eyes  
I know iron and steel couldn't hold me_

No need to embellish the fact or waste time dancing around it: Damon is _hard._

The pressing of his erection against his jeans makes him groan and the sound of the water jet is talking to him. Telling him things he doesn't needs to hear, much less desire. Yet he wants to do them all and then start over again.

He wants to slip into that room and press himself against her. He wants to feel the weight of her breasts in the palms of his hands, he wants to feel her bottom pressed against his jeans, he wants to nibble at her earlobe and tell her _It's okay, I'm here_ - because lately he feels like he's never anywhere else but with her - _I'm here, can you feel me?_

_Good God, I'm easy bruised  
But so often a moth to her flame  
And the things that she's asked me to do  
Would see a senior saint forgetting his name_

In his head everything is so vivid that he can almost feel it: her slippery skin under his hands, angular and sharp fitting against soft and curvy, white marble complimenting dark mocha so perfectly that they resemble the art of a mosaic, her warmth wrapped around him so tightly that he cannot understand where he ends and she begins, the delicious sounds she makes, echoing in his chest like an ancient call driving him to the sweetest madness.

_I have an audience with the Pope  
And I'm saving the world at eight  
But if she says she needs me, she says she needs me  
Everybody's going to have to wait, ah, ah_

The coffee almost spills, _and_ _that is not the only thing that could_ _spill_ _at any moment_ _now_, he thinks. And, really, this is the only coherent thought he can master because every cell of his brain is beyond _consumed_ with her.

But she's not in condition to be the object of his lustful inclination, obviously. And this is just a passing need, obviously; because he loves Elena, obviously. It's even redundant to say at this point. Really.

He puts down the cup of coffee on the toilette table and once she comes out from the bathroom that's pretty much all she finds of him.

#

**Note:** the songs I used in this chapter are "All the way 4 u" by Poets of the Fall and "An audience with the Pope" by Elbow.


	17. Chapter 17

When she enters the kitchen with her mug in her hand she finds him already sitting at the table, slowly sipping his own coffee while his eyes are down on a newspaper, oblivious to the world and immersed in thoughts.

The table is all set up with breakfast.

Finding that mug of coffee on the toilette table was unexpected and warming, like finding a refuge in a snow storm; Gram always made coffee mixed with cream and sugar, and now when she needs strength and comfort – when she needs someone and there's no one, never – she makes herself coffee mixed with cream and sugar. It's a bad surrogate of love but it's all she has. She's surprised to realize Damon has picked up this little thing about her, even if he doesn't know what that mug of coffee really means to her.

She'd like to thank him but he looks distracted and she's still trying to take in this odd intimacy to feel bold enough to break the calm of the morning with words.

The silence is good for Damon because the sound of her moaning in his head barely stopped and he doesn't need to hear her voice to imagine sensual inflections where are none.

He's still pathetically hard under the damn table.

She takes a bite of the scrambled eggs, plays around with the bacon in the plate, and then puts down the fork to take a sip of coffee.

He glances at her and takes her fork.

"Am I a good cook?" he asks, taking a bite of her eggs.

He traps the metal fork's teeth between his lips, knowing he won't find her taste but hoping to, all the same.

"You're not too bad," she admits with a sleepy voice.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck –_ he thinks smiling to her to not give away his state - the bed-voice doesn't do any good to the bulge in his jeans.He forgot it takes her a bite to awake completely in the morning.

He looks down at the newspaper just to have a neutral activity to do even if he can't focus on a single letter. He swears, if it were Chinese he would still _not_ understand the same amount of words.

Bonnie goes back to her breakfast until her cell phone rings and she takes it from the pocket of her jeans. She looks at the screen with hopeful eyes but the muscles of her face freeze and she pretends to not be disappointed by whatever name lights up. She just closes it and puts it on the table.

Damon steal a glance at her phone and then decides that this is a way like another to distract his mind, hoping the south region of his anatomy will decide to follow him at some point.

"Are you waiting for a call?" he asks, and then he thinks that maybe she's disappointed Jeremy didn't come to see her yet.

"No."

He thinks that maybe, since now she feels like she did before, she might love what she loved before. It would be normal, wouldn't it? So she misses Lover Boy, or Jerry-the-nobody.

Or- "It's your father?" he asks, without thinking.

Well, it's not like he's any better when he _does_ think.

Her eyelashes tremble and she cleans her mouth with the napkin. He makes a point to stop staring at her soft lips and decides to hold onto this topic like it can save him from going crazy.

"Did you even hear from him in the last week?" he asks, knowing he's hurting her but not being able to stop. Somehow he really wants to know the scars she's covered in; he wants know them better than he knows his own; he wants to be able to call each of them by name.

"He texts me," she says, looking at her plate and going back to eating.

Her dad is away for work. He is _always_ away for work.

The failure of his marriage made it unbearable for him to stay in the house that was supposed to see him grow old with the woman he chose for himself. Bonnie thinks he picks the longest trips so he won't have to be home.; so he won't have to see _her_.

"_You look so much like your mother," _her Gram always told her with an affectionate smile, and she hated to hear it. She hated to be reminded of why her father could barely be in the same room as her before something _urgent _came up and he had to go. _I'm so sorry, sweetheart_.

Bonnie is always been sorry too, but she could never tell him.

"My father used to beat me."

Bonnie doesn't know if she's more startled by his words or by the way it sounds. So jovial that for a moment she believes she must have heard it wrong.

He looks away with a bored expression on his face, and she looks to his eyes to try and find him. She believes she does.

"I was a lively kid. Always climbing trees or slipping in the stables to talk to the horses, and he was mad. At the world, I suppose. I don't know if he loved my mother but she soothed his temper, so when she died he was…"

He shrugs, like he can't find the words or can't bother to.

"Well, you know how it works. I couldn't hold my tongue and he beat me black and blue. Maybe it would have been different if he hadn't fancied scotch so much. He even had a distillery, so he couldn't pass up. Some good stuff, I have to say," his eyes travel on her like he's following the path of his memories, and he grins, "I could kill for one bottle now."

She is hypnotized by what she hears. But mostly, by what she sees: _Damon Salvatore. _Not bits of him forced out by the most catastrophic moments, but him baring himself in front of her out of choice.

"I wanted him to hear me out, but I did it wrong. There was nothing I could do right in the eyes of the great Giuseppe Salvatore. I didn't want to pursue an academic career and I didn't care to be a landowner, I couldn't be like him, so I joined the army to find my own path," he says, propping his elbow on the table, resting his chin on the palms of his hands and looking her straight in the eyes, "Sometimes that's really all you can do."

She can't bear to talk about the silly little girl she is, waiting for her dad to call or just care; waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to stay.

"He was supposed to love you," she says, voice hard like she's trying not lot let it break.

"Yes, he was, wasn't he?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, "But they say love finds you."

Eyes into eyes and she can't remember what time is it or in what direction the world spins.

"You had Stefan," she says, just to break the silence before she falls God-knows-how.

"Yeah, my little brother," he smiles his first genuine smile all day, "He followed me anywhere, he wanted to do everything I did. And I took the beatings for him, too," he says, "His health was bad and I feared he couldn't take what I took, so I tried to make our father too angry at me to care about him," there's bitterness in his voice when he admits, "I think he never touched him, not to hug him nor to hit him. At least while I was there."

"What about after?" she asks, voicing the doubts he had when he was away looking for his own destiny.

"I don't know," he admits, "I suspected Stefan had his share, but I never asked him. I didn't want to know," he says, "I expected to find him angry at me for leaving him alone, but every time I came back he looked at me in that way, like I- like I was…"

Words escape him or maybe it's the courage to admit it out loud that he lacks.

"His hero?" she asks, with a light smile.

The same one Damon smiles.

He breaks eye contact only when he hears the front door opening and closing again.

"Here he comes," he says, voice bored again sipping on his coffee.

Stefan enters the room a few seconds later, and looks at both of them, leaving his eyes on Bonnie's naked neck. She's been wearing sweaters that covered her to the chin until the day before and this looks to him like a good sign. Damon explained what marked her body, and to see her clean skin makes him feel relived.

"Good Morning," he says.

"Good Morning," she answers.

"It _was_ a good one, until you came around," Damon says with a bothered grin.

Bonnie rolls her eyes, "I'll translate for him, okay?" she asks, not waiting for an answer, "He's happy to see you."

"I'm sure," Stefan says with a gentle smile, taking a mug from the counter top and sitting at the table with them.

"Will you pass me a croissant?" he asks his brother while he pours himself some blood to mix with his coffee.

"I don't remember inviting you to join us," Damon says, reaching out to take a croissant from the basket on the side of the table to pass it to his brother.

"I _live_ here," Stefan reminds him, dipping the brioche into his beverage.

"You _pass _here, because your things are casually in this house," he corrects him.

"Are you telling me you miss me?"

"Like I miss _virginity_," Damon grimaces, "Mine, of course, because I'm sure you still have yours."

Bonnie can only laugh watching them. They are such _boys, _and for a moment she lets herself feel part of this odd family. Lets herself look at them like her trusted brothers.

Well, _one_ of them, at least.

Note: Next week I'm going away for a short vacation, all the same I'll do my best to try to update if I can.


	18. Chapter 18

Damon turns his head looking over his shoulder at the trio sitting at the table and playing cards. Elena is protesting because Stefan can always tell when she's bluffing and even if he let it slip half the time, Bonnie can recognize the soft look he sends her way when her inability to deliver the part makes her endearing in his eyes and so somehow she always ends up leaving the cards on the table.

Elena sounds like an innocent, happy child when she whines on purpose because she's losing. Stefan is all bright eyed now that everything seems quiet.

And Bonnie has a smile that could make people blind. Damon never knew she could smile like that.

Never knew he could feel bad stealing glances her way either, since he did things way worse than this.

Stefan fixed his eyes on his when he suggested he and Elena needed to come more often to distract Bonnie, and he waited for a moment, probably to ask him why all of a sudden he was eager to play the gracious host since he was never a fan of big reunions, but he just said "Sure," and from then it's been days and they are both in the boarding house every night, and Stefan himself spend half the day with them.

Damon is blunt and shameless, but to confess his dear brother he doesn't want to be alone with Bonnie would sound ridiculous. He would probably laugh in his face, and he'd have any reason to.

If Stefan guessed what was happening in his mind – or in the lowest region of his anatomy - at the moment, he was merciful enough to give him a free pass.

All the mistrust he gets from people is nothing serious since right now he can't trust himself to be alone with her.

It's not that he's suddenly whipped or anything. He loves Elena, he'll always love Elena. It's just that he woke up one morning to find himself with a Bonnie he never knew before; one that calls his gaze whenever she's around, whenever she bites her lower lip between her perfect teeth as she concentrates on something. One he's not prepared for, yet.

He's a man and there's only so much platonic he can do before throwing scruples away. But she's not some girl he picked up at the bar. He can't play her, nor does he want to.  
He won't fuck it up. No _fucking_ of any sort will be involved here, period.

So the point is that he is a man, and he has needs, and she's attractive and there's no need to make a mess out of a situation if it was already quite a catastrophe to start with.  
And if Stefan and Elena are around he will not have a chance to screw it. Screw anything at all, really.

Well, there's even the fact that Bonnie is the only female in Mystic Falls population that was never tricked by his charms too, but he's not trying to split hairs here.  
His brother and Elena will be around some more, he won't have deliciously dirty thoughts about Bonnie anymore and everything will go back in place.

It's a lot easier to feel more like his usual self when Elena is around. He can look at her and feel all the strength of his purposes coming back to him.  
And if he turns around to steal a glance at Bonnie when she laughs it's only because he's not used to that sound. Because she was never like this with him, and he needs to know more about her if he wants to help her out, that's it.

Damon turns his head again; Elena is the picture of loveliness itself even when she pouts, maybe more when she does. He will never get tired of fighting for her.  
Bonnie is shaking her head. Her posture give away tiredness, her full lips are curved up even if he can catch a hint of melancholy in her eyes.  
He thinks even sadness makes her beautiful, and for a moment he forgets there is anyone else in the room but her.

#

Damon's eyes are closed, his head is resting against the head of his armchair and his index finger is purposely tangled with the black cable of the big earphones.

He opens his eyes and sighs when the music stops coming from the earphones and resounds in the whole room.

Luciano Pavarotti invades the atmosphere with his deep, clear, tenor voice and Bonnie – cable in hand – presses her lips together with a perplexed expression and looks at him like she can't understand what she caught him doing.

Right now _little bird_ is just too endearing, and _Bonnie_ is too private, and _witch_ is too distant, and he's at loss even with such a simple task as choosing how to address her. God, she's _such_ a pain in the ass.

"Judgy," he greets her; "Did you miss me?"

She ignores the question. He didn't expect anything different.

"What are you listening?" she asks, genuinely curious.

He wants to ask her if she really cares to know or if she only wants to bother him; or if she's here because he _knows _while Stefan and Elena don't, and she needs to be with someone who can look her in the eyes and don't see the horrible things that she did and that now keep her awake at night; but he answers her question instead of voicing his own.

"It's a Romanza called _a furtive Tear. _It's taken from Act II of the Italian opera _L'Elisir d'Amore._"

Bonnie sits opposite to him, all put, eyes lost on the floor as she listens intently.

It would be too easy to give in to the temptation of looking at her and Oscar Wilde once said that the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it, so Damon leans on the side and his cheek rests against his closed fist and just stares openly.

_Shamelessly_.

After all, he was never big on shame, what's the point in starting now? He's just curious about her, the same way she is about this Romanza.

"He's happy," he explains, making her gaze at him, "He's _madly_ happy because there's one single, furtive tear in the eyes of the maiden he loves and it's for him. That's how he knows she loves him back."

She bats her lashes, taking in the story.

"Did he have any reason to doubt it?"

"Any reason in the world," he says with a grin, "She never showed any interest in him or the love he had to offer."

"What changed her mind?" she asks, eager to know.

"He thinks a love potion he brought did. He was so in love with her that he did not care where that love came from. But the potion was nothing more than a cheap red wine sold by a traveling con man, and she truly loved him."

He props his elbows on his knees and raises a finger to stop any question as he listens and translates the words for her.

"What more need I look for? She loves me. Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it. Just for an instant the beating of her beautiful heart I felt…"

And then they both are silent again, listening as the man, bursting with joy, cherishes the sight of one tear, and the sound of her sigh. They both listen silently until the music ends.

"I never imagined you could like something like this," she says, with a sheepish look.

"Oh, so you _imagined_ me," he says, the insinuation sounds very clear as he speaks "Was I dressed when you _imagined _me?"

He knows what button to push; he knows she won't fall for his act. This is familiar territory for both of them.

She rolls her eyes, "This room is not big enough for both me and your ego."

"I don't know about my ego but my-"

"Don't!" she stops his words, looking at him all wide eyed and scandalized, "Don't say it."

"I was about to say 'my _modesty'"_ he says, sporting a disappointed expression, "You have such a one track mind!" he accuses her, making such an effort to look innocent that she is tempted to laugh in his face, "Really, I don't know what to do with you anymore. I'm really worried that my nearness is irreparably damaging your ability to resist me. _Please_ try and resist me!"

"Damon," she says, sounding grave, like she is about to say something he _needs_ to listen to. And then a cushion flies in his face.

The cushion falls in his lap and he looks at her with a threatening look which would not scare a child.

"You forced my hand," he says, dramatically "I will have no mercy on you."

"Damon don't be stupid!" she answers trying to sound convinced that he won't dare do anything. But Damon could never pass up a dare. She should know better, she reminds herself.  
She gets up from the sofa when she sees him slowly doing the same and then she has no time to run out of the room because he's too fast. Bonnie can see a trail of black before he stops one step away from her because the phone is ringing in his pocket.

"I'll have to put on hold my terrible revenge for a second," he says, taking the phone and Bonnie smiles openly now that he's not looking.

She never knew she could feel so at ease being stuck in a house with Damon Salvatore, so good, but she does. More than that she feels like he understands her to a nonverbal level she didn't know could be shared between two people. Especially if the two people were them.

But her smile falls when he eagerly puts the phone to his ear turning his back on her because "Elena!" is on the phone.

He says her name with all the smoothness he can manage and Bonnie reminds herself that _of course_ he would sound like that with Elena. He _loves_ Elena, and it's not her business that he does.

He probably feels like that man from the romanza, so madly in love that he doesn't care what it takes for her to love him back.

It's nothing new. And she doesn't feel sad, it's just that she will get bored without him and, after all, he's the only one who knows what's really going on with her. Yes, that's the only reason, she reminds herself.

When he looks over his shoulder, just a moment, Bonnie looks distracted and indifferent to his conversation with her friend.

"Yeah, I'll come over, sure."

There are other words but Bonnie doesn't care to listen. She knows the drill; Elena snaps her fingers and Damon runs to her. It should not surprise her, much less upset her.  
When he tells her that Elena wants to see him she doesn't give him time to add anything else.

He wants to ask her if she needs him to stay, he wants to tell her that maybe he can make her wait a bit for once, but Bonnie just shrugs and tells him "Sure, you should go," and when she adds "It's okay, I don't need you," even if it is meant to sound like a good news his heart sinks in his chest, just a little bit.

"That's good," he says, nodding.

_That's good_, he tries to convince himself. It means she's getting better, it means she will be fine soon.

It means she'll go away and that, above all, she does not need him.

"I won't keep you," she says turning her back and heading to her room.

Damon watches her back, the space getting bigger and bigger between them, and the door closing on him.

He does not see the single, furtive tear she doesn't let herself shed.

#

Note: Once again thanks to 1beaut for correcting this chapter.


	19. Chapter 19

Note: Since you've been waiting a long time for an update I though I could make it double this week. This is thanks to 1beaut that helped me again by providing beta service.

#

She jumps from the bed without putting her shoes on and goes running down the stairs as she hears her name being screamed with the burst of an emotion she can't take the time to recognize right now.

When Bonnie gets to the damaged front door, Caroline looks out of breath and out of her mind.

"You're back," Bonnie says, regretting the fact that her first words are so stupid. If Caroline is back, it can only mean she found out the truth.

Bonnie has dreaded this moment, but all she feels right now is relief. She needs to come clean, take the blame and at least try to make amend to her wrong doings.

"What the hell are you screaming about?" Damon's voice sounds clearly irritated as he arrives and then he adds, "You're going to pay for the door."

Bonnie doesn't look around to shush Damon, but she raises one hand in his direction motioning him to let Caroline talk. There's no doubt that, right now, Damon could not stop her even if he tried, anyway.

"How could you?" Caroline's fists are clenched together and her pearly nails bite at her palms, while her red, glossy eyes fix on her a hard stare.

"I'm so sorry…" it's the stupidest thing to say right now, but she truly is sorry, so very much, and she can't keep the words inside.

"Yes, so sorry that you _killed_ my boyfriend, and sent me on my marry way with a monster like Klaus," she feels so betrayed right now that she can't find the right words to hurt her enough. "You didn't even have the decorum to tell me. You let me live under the same roof as him, you let me share the same-"she can't even complete the line without feeling suffocated by the vivid memory, "I found out only because I found his drawings of me and I connected the dots."

"Wh-"Damon wants to ask her if she had sunstroke or anything but then he looks at Bonnie and knows that there's something he doesn't know. He doesn't like it.

He passes a hand in his thick black hair, trying to reason this out.

"Okay, something is wrong here, but I can tell you that she's been stuck in this house with me for the last three weeks so whatever it is that happened to Tyler it can't possibly be her fault."

It sounds good to his own ears. Yeah, right, whatever happened he's her alibi so everything's fine.

"I did a spell," Bonnie says. Her voice is so thin for the effort to keep herself steady that he must strive to listen.

"I had to find a way to hide Klaus... in a place where Alaric couldn't find him."

"You're forgetting that Alaric _did_ find him, and burned him like it was the fourth of July," Damon says.

"Not really," Bonnie shakes her head, "He only found his body. I had already transferred his power in another body; Tyler's."

Damon is stunned to hear that she did something like this under his nose and he didn't even notice. And, is that the extent of her powers? Can she play around like this with people's lives without so much breaking a nail?

Well, yeah, aside from the sociopathic side effects.

"And I've spent almost a month with him, believing him to be Tyler when he was in fact a poor imitation," Caroline is trembling with rage and betrayal, and Bonnie wishes so much she would just launch herself toward her and be done with it. But she forgot that Damon's there with the sole mission to screw everything up for her, so when Caroline goes to take her by her shoulders, Damon manages to tear her away from her just in time.

Bonnie can see the colored trail of their fast moving as she falls on the floor from the force of Caroline's residual grip.

"Now, back off Barbie!"

Caroline's eyes are black and so are Damon's, but his hissing sounds a lot more threatening than hers.

"Use that brain of yours if any cell remained after all the hair-dye," he says, "We are _alive _because of what she did!"

"I _lost_ Tyler because of what she did!" she screams into his face.

"And it took you almost a whole month to tell the difference between him and your other suitor," He says, sarcastically, "And just because Tyler can't hold a pen, so imagine a pencil!"  
Caroline throws him across the room, face burning with humiliation and shame.

They won't get anywhere with this so he decides to change his strategy.

"Listen, I'm sorry for your loss-"

"Damon," Bonnie cuts in because he's not doing a great job at appearing sorry, at all, and because this is all her fault so she must take the blame and everything else.

"He was so important to me, and you made me betray his memory," Caroline tells her, with tears running down her beautiful, pale face. "How could you?" she asks, her voice trembles, "He was your friend, and you killed him."

"He's alive," Bonnie offers "I swear he is."

"Where?" the shock of the news sober Caroline up immediately, "Where is he?"

"Inside his body, with Klaus," she explains, "It's just that Klaus is more powerful, I suppose his personality must be the dominant one."

"Then undo the spell, right now!" the vampire orders the same way she bossed her friends around when she was just a child.

"I can't do it, unless I find another body for Klaus to inhabit. It's not really easy to find a supernatural vessel for an Original vampire, I don't know what would happen with a less equipped vessel," she says, "Not to mention the fact that I…"

"You what?"

"She's temporarily out of service," Damon says.

Bonnie would roll her eyes at his choice of words if it didn't seem so disrespectful of Caroline's pain.

"He found a way to unable my powers because they were getting… out of hand."

"Oh, what made you think so?" she asks, sarcastically, "Then re-enable them!"

"Do you have a suicide wish?" he asks back.

"You don't understand," Caroline begins, but Damon doesn't let her continue.

"No, _you_ don't understand," he says, irritated by her useless whining and ordering around now, when in fact she didn't do one useful or even relevant thing in the first place, "I won't do it because we'll die if I do it. Because if she puts things back the way they were, we'll be _all_ dead. Your precious Tyler included."

"I know you don't want to hear it now," Bonnie says, "But it was the only way I could save everyone I cared about."

"You _had _to find another one!" she insists.

"I know," she says, "I can't fix things right now, but I'll do it very soon. I promise, but right now you _need_ to keep Klaus under control. Does he know that you know about him?"  
The blonde vampire shakes her head as a reply.

"Then he'll lower his defenses. You know he'll do it around you, and you can keep him good for a while."

Caroline stares at her for long seconds.

"Tyler is alive?"

"Yes," Bonnie answers, "Yes, he is and you'll be together again."

#

"She's just ashamed she likes Tyler 2.0 better," Damon says while Bonnie sits on the first step of the stairs holding her head with both hands.

"Don't be unfair," she says, "I forced her into this situation. I made the wrong choice," and wasn't she so good at talking about those?

"It's my fault," she adds.

"I'm not being unfair," he says, not looking at her, "I call things the way they are. I know enough about torn women. She can say all she wants that she loves only Tyler, but it doesn't make it any more real."

Bonnie looks up at him. She can never stop herself from looking at him when he opens up to her, even just a little bit.

"You could have told me," He says, "I don't like surprises."

"I wanted to, but there was always someone around and…" she shrugs, like she doesn't know what she means to say. She doesn't know if words count for anything now.  
The fact is that he doesn't care to know how that sentence ends. He cares about the way it begins, because it means something to him that she wanted to tell him; even if it was a lie, he likes the sound enough to choose to accept it.

"Fine," he says, "You know what you need?"

"To get drunk?" she hazards a guess.

Damon just grins at her.

#

"It was Elena on the phone, wasn't it?" she asks, staring at the glass in her hands as he comes back into the room.

Damon shrugs, to not give importance to the call but she can't help but dig into it.

"They don't want to see me."

"Caroline needs an audience when she whines, you know that," he says, sprawling himself on the sofa, "So she's kind of holding them hostage, but they'll come tomorrow night or whenever she feels merciful enough to free them."

Bonnie gives him half a smile and tries to sip on the bourbon he gave her. The smell is so strong that that alone makes her stomach turn a bit. The amber liquid burns on the tip of her tongue and she grimaces putting the glass back on the coffee table.

"What did they have to say about what I did?"

"Stefan can't really throw any rock here. And Elena is too worried about showing some sympathy to Barbie to try and make her be reasonable, but I'm sure she understands."

"What about Jeremy?"

The name throws Damon off for a moment. Jeremy? Why should she care what Jeremy thinks?

"He doesn't know. The boy is out tonight, but I'm sure they'll fill him in soon."

"With a girl?"

She's kidding, right? Is she actually worrying about Jeremy's love life right now? Why the hell does she care if he even has one? Damon highly doubt he has one; He's a stubborn teenager still wet behind his ears, he's sure he'll have a stable relationship with Miss Rosie Palm for a very long time.

"It's not like I care enough to ask," but watching her face display a fake smile he rushes to add "But I'm pretty sure he and Matt went playing pool. I think I heard them making arrangements when I went to Elena's."

He's lying, of course, but if it makes her feel better he doesn't see the harm in that.

"Good," she says slowly, "he should go out and take his mind off troubles."

"You should, too," he answers, with the tone of someone that just took a decision.

Bonnie just looks at him with a scowl.

"I mean it. Me and you, we're going out tonight!" he decides.

"You forget the part of going out where I have to actually put my foot outside the boarding house. Which, I _can't_." "That's because lately you lack in the imagination department, but luckily for you I'm around," he explains, "The garden on the back of the house it's the integrant part of the house itself, and since there's nothing else calling for our attention and we're young and free - well" he interrupts himself to correct the shoot, "one of us, at least – we'll have a nice date_._"

She looks at him perplexed; he himself feels pretty weird about the word.

"A friendly one, of course," he clarifies, "though, I can let you get to second base if you're _really_ nice to me," he adds, with a wink.


	20. Chapter 20

When she had packed to go to the boarding house she wasn't planning a pleasure trip, nor did she figure she would end up stuck there until God knows when. She barely knew what she was doing, which was stuffing clothes inside her bag, so now she doesn't have anything fancy or particularly pretty to wear.

Not that it matters, since "It's not a real date."

She told herself so at least four times in the last hour, but some part of her must be still not getting the hint because the person reflecting back in the mirror looks nervous.

Bonnie brushes her cheek with her hands in hope to take away some rouge and then she remembers she didn't put any make up on yet. The thought that she is actually blushing makes her eyes enlarge for the horror.

She shakes her head with a sigh, and takes the hairbrush to fix her curls. She's going to be reasonable about this because she really needs air, and distraction, and she must not panic now.

There's no reason to because "It's not a real date."

This is getting redundant.

She takes a breath and sits at her toilette table.

"Listen, Bonnie," she tells herself, "Get a grip! This is _Damon_, so if anything else it won't be boring. And he's so in love with Elena that he can't even remember what gender you belong to, so you're possibly going to have a good time and he will not care what you are wearing. You don't have to put up with any expectations of any sort here. Relax!"

She puts on some make up, wears a simple necklace with a crystal and she sighs thinking she didn't bring a pair of matching earrings. Then she remembers that "It's not a real date."

#

When she steps in front of him he's dressed in his usual black jeans, black shirt, and flaunting his unfailing cocky smile. She proudly holds his gaze, because she's not nervous anymore.

Aside from the fact that _it's not a real date_, it's not like they never spent time together alone since she's been there. And he is doing this just to make her relax a bit; she's not exactly a champion in this field but she might as well give it a try.

He gives her an approving look. Her lace pale pink top only lets him guess her skin under it, and she's wearing jeans and heels.

She's casually beautiful, but he guesses she does not know.

"You're very pretty," he admits. The natural tone and look he uses to say the words tell her he's making a statement, not trying to charm her, and it makes her comfortable enough to thank him.

He walks towards her and turns to stop at her side, offering her his right arm. Since she likes so much Victorian novels he's sure she will appreciate it.

"See?" he asks, "How many guys offered you their right arm?"

"Are you fishing for compliments?" she asks back, as her arm links with his.

"Yes."

She smiles as they walk together to the patio doors.

"Aren't you happy I wouldn't be slaughtering you if I was actually carrying a sword?"

"Did you ever carry one?"

"I'm not that old," he says, "We had muskets. But I knew how to treat a lady."

"So you just _forgot_?"

"Funny," he says, with a tone that suggest the opposite.

In the garden there's a table set and plates covered with silver domes; it would be very dark if it wasn't for the light coming from the inside of the house.  
He pushes back the chair for her and she sits at the table.

"I didn't bring along my night-vision glasses," she says, "what now?"

"I was planning to feel you up in the dark and then blame it on Stefan," he answers, "But since you feel so unsympathetic I'll have to shut you up."

Damon goes back inside, turns off the lights in the room and a few seconds later everything illuminates in the garden. There are tiny lights all around her, like she's surrendered by fireflies.

_When the street lights come on and the fireflies flicker  
I am walking her home  
Making plans_

Bonnie looks around her, breathless, and she can just gasp in pleasure.

There's something warm in the middle of her breast, like he turned on a light inside her too.

"I have a reputation to maintain," he says. He stands next to the table and looks over his shoulder to fix his eyes on her smiling face, "Do you think you can see now?"

What she sees, raising her eyes on him, is his pale skin become seraphic, and she suddenly thinks that Damon Salvatore is dream material. Not hers, of course, but still, he is.

"Maybe you overdone it a bit," she's smiling too much for him to take her seriously but he plays along.

"You think so?"

"This is a friends night. Did you have this set up for Alaric too?"

"No," he answers, "He liked slow dancing and massages."

_With her shoes in her hands I am watching her dance  
As the hem of her dress gently kisses the grass_

Bonnie laughs. Her shoulders shake slightly with it. A bright and happy laugh, like the ones she laughs when she is with her friends. When she's with his brother. Just much better because this time he did it.

A lock of hair has fallen against her cheek and his fingers itch to push it behind her ear, but he doesn't move. He's not trying to romance her. It would be totally out of place.

He likes the platonic route here.

They both eat; she compliments him for _ordering _food so well, and he thanks her like he's actually pleased.

He's a good cook but he had to come up with a decent setting to give her some sort of change so he didn't have time; he'll have to show her one of these days, though, he decides, so he'll have her begging him to prepare something for her.

They talk about things; they cannot really tell what they talk about because they jump from one word to another, from one subject to another, or more likely from one snarky remark to another and it's just amazing that they can actually understand what the other is referring to, since they proceed so fast, to bother to pick one topic and stick to it.

Since she doesn't usually eat much during dinner they go from main course to the dessert – _tiramisù – _and she looks pleased with his choice.

_It suddenly rains on us  
She is laughing and turns up her hands_

The only problem is that the fork barely touches the dish when rain comes pouring down like it's the Flood and he must hold her by the waist and guide her in to make her move faster.

The lights go out once they are in, and a stroke of lightening clears the sky. The thunder arrives to their ears much later and she hugs herself as she steps back from the glass.

"Do you think we broke a law of nature?" she asks. The smile is there in her voice.

"Just one?" he asks back, and he turns around to look at her "I'm disappointed. We'll have to do better next time."

His voice dies a bit on the last word because she's there all wet and smiling and hugging herself, and he's there with something in the middle of his throat that he can't swallow. And they are together in the dark.

"I wouldn't want to damage your reputation," she humors him and tries to catch his expression. The dark is too thick for her to make out his features but the air is suddenly heavy with tension.

She thinks she's imagining things because, it turns out, Damon Salvatore is dream material.

_Like autumn turns leaves  
Winter will breathe cold on our necks  
Snow in our paths_

She reminds herself that there's no need for her to make things worse, and so she turns her head to the side to try and focus on what's happening. Which is _nothing._  
He takes a step forward and she jumps back.

"Are you scared of me?" he asks, unsure.

"No, no," she says, "Of course not. I just can't see much and I didn't realize you were moving."

"Right," and he takes a few steps; not towards her.

She hears the sound of shutters, and she can guess his body kneeling in front of a cabinet while he's looking for something.

Half a minute later a candle is lit up, and then another and another.

"Better?" he asks, standing, and inside her mind a voice is screaming that _no_, it's not better at all because now she can see him and something about him is _so_ tender, something about the whole situation is _so_ intimate that her legs are getting weaker by the second, but still she lies, "Yes, much better."

She takes one of the two candles on the coffee table and brushes one hand along her harm to tell him, "I'm really cold, I'll go back to my room now."

"Sure."

_Wherever she goes  
All that I know about us is that beautiful things never last  
That's why fireflies flash_

He would offer her to accompany her, if it didn't sound like a very stupid thing to say. And if she wasn't halfway up the stairs already.

He suspects there's been a _major_ fail in his no-date-no-romancing plan.

#

Damon has been sitting on the carpet for an hour. There are more candles lit in front of the fireplace, the storm seems like it wants to go on forever, and his glass is empty. He's trying to decide if pouring himself another one or just drink from the bottle when he hears her steps.

His blue eyes can see her moving in the dark, her hand shelter the little flame of the candle so when she moves forward it doesn't die, but he's not sure it isn't just the alcohol. Yet, he didn't drink much and even if he did his fast healing would still make it hard to be properly stoned.

Bonnie stops, noticing him and pulls at fabric of the big sweatshirt she's wearing to cover her legs better as she walks to him.

"Hi," she says, kneeling on the carpet, three steps away from him, and putting down her candle. She's wearing a white sweatshirt, with the blue print _Duke, _which is too big for her.  
He wonders who gave it to her.

"Hi yourself." he says.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks; his chin is on his arm, as it rests on his knee, bent up.

"Not really."

"I didn't thank you before," she adds, "For the evening."

"I heard friends have this ritual meetings and it sounded exotic so I wanted to give it a try," he says, "How did I do?"

"I think you should arrange the weather better next time," she answers, "But Flood aside, you did pretty well."

"I left a message to God, I think his machine is full."

She smiles and pushes a lock of hair behind her hair. His fingers itch again. So much for the platonic route.

"I know you lied."

"I'm sure I did a lot worse, but I'm not following here," he says, confused "You'll have to be more specific."

"About Jeremy."

It takes him effort to remember who she's talking about. And then he turns his eyes on the candles.

Well, a reality check will do him good. She's in love with Jeremy, and he's in love with Elena, and their _ritual meeting _happened because of this in the first place. Good, that's good.  
It doesn't really matter that he wants to crush Jeremy's skull right now, because it only means he's getting protective over his friend.

"It's okay," she says, "I'm grateful, really, but I'm fine."

"Are you?" he asks, looking her in the eyes.

She seems to think his question over, and bites her lower lip. If she's not trying to distract him, she's doing a miserable job at that.

"I guess, sometimes, I just feel… alone."

It's a big confession for someone that likes control so much as Bonnie does, even if he doubts that she's over the young Gilbert.

"I'm stuck here, always at the same point of my life, and everyone I love goes on without me…"

"They'll get nowhere without you, you know," he says, "Not alive, anyway."

"I suppose I can be useful."

She doesn't sound pleased at the word she found to define herself. Damon thinks she should use better words. Words like _brave_ and _essential, _but he can't tell her. Can he?

"Do you feel alone now?"

It sounds a lot more dangerous than telling her in her face what he thinks of her but she's the smartest one between them and she looks so beautiful and accessible now. And she never was before. Not with him.

She gasps, and she tries to understand how she feels now. But words don't come and suddenly it's too late to answer because she lost the moment.

He watches her mouth and she holds her breath.

There are many scenarios showing up into his head when he leans into her: he barely touches her lips before she push him away asking him if he is out of his mind – which he hopes he is because that would make things better; in the second scenario she turns her head and he finds himself brushing her cheekbone while she pretends that she didn't notice his true intention – he'll think all night about the smell of her skin and will stare at the ceiling cursing at himself; the other versions are pretty much similar, only sometimes some sort of supernatural creature guarding the world's balance drags him away because this is _really_ the last straw.

In none of the versions his brain is flooded with, Bonnie stays still, with green eyes wide open, and lets his lips brush hers so lightly that his stomach hurts.

#

Note Another chapter betaed by 1beaut. The song used in this chapter is "Fireflies" by Ron Pope (live at Flux Studio version)


	21. Chapter 21

When she doesn't slap him nor tells him to stop because this is crazy and they just shouldn't, he brushes his lips against hers again. Even if it's crazy and they just shouldn't.

Only at the third kiss he lets his tongue gently invade her mouth.

The fact that she actually lets him, and closes her eyes during the kiss would be freezing his muscles if his insides weren't melting.

Her mouth is hot and her full lips are extremely soft and he has this urge to find out if all of her is that soft too.

Damon holds her by the waist pulling her just a bit towards him and feels her trembling in his hands; he can feel the sweet curve of her hip under his palm, even through the fabric of the baggy shirt she uses to sleep in and his kisses become deeper without any conscious decision. Then the fever her mouth gives him forces him to push her gently on her back to lie on top of her.

_We collide,  
Synchronized;  
As I gaze into your eyes.  
Feel our souls lose control,_

Her wary green eyes look up to him and when he feels her hands on his shoulders he thinks that this is it, the moment when she comes to her senses and pushes him away to go lock herself in her room. Instead her hands stay there and her lips part slightly and his blood pumps so fast into his veins that he can actually hear it singing for her.

One of her legs move to the side until his lap is nested in between them. The baggy thing she wears rises up and he feels the friction of her thigh against the fabric of his jeans. Damon's right hand move to caress her knee and travels up to the thigh, while his eyes never leave hers; waiting for the end of this moment, or its true beginning.

_When your body softly glides,  
Over mine;  
Petrified._

Bonnie's left arm slips around his neck and that's pretty much all the encouragement he'll accept before kissing her again.

Damon is used to fighting for dominance, to be hungry with his lovers. _Hungry_ for love, so much so that the act is frantic, noisy and it always leaves him bruised, even if it's not always on the outside. He had tried to win Katherine with passion, and the more they took from each other the emptier he felt. He had been hungry for love from the day he met her, and then Elena came along and with her the second chance he had been waiting for so long. When she had gave in to the attraction in that cheap motel they had kissed like they wanted to devour each other hearts out, and every thought he ever had was to have her filling that hole that, now he knew, he had grown up with all his life. With any lover he had ever had before and after the fateful day he laid eyes on Katherine he had fought his solitude, his sorrow, and buried it in the willing bodies of his, mostly nameless, bed partners.

Right now he can't remember where that black hole is supposed to be, can't remember its shape or how large it's supposed to be. He can taste _peace_ on Bonnie's lips.

The friction of their bodies makes her moan and Damon can feel the sound vibrating against his tongue. His erection throbs because of that same sound. He can swallow it in another kiss, before traveling down the curve of her neck. Her old sweater is a horrible barrier he decides to get rid of, and when he slips it over her head she lies naked under him, with only panties on.

He can read embarrassment in her eyes, and she bites at her lower lips to keep herself from covering her breast with her hands. Damon smiles at her, and even if he wants to reassure her with words he can only manage a _hey _as they are nose to nose, because he's too good at ruining things with the wrong words and he doesn't want to take the chance now.

He brushes the tips of her nipples with the back of his fingers, and runs them along its curve until they travel the navel and go up to the other one; he wants nothing more than to kiss them, but Bonnie reaches up to him, trying to open the buttons of his shirt with unsteady hands and he needs to wait for her.

_But our hearts feel it's the time.  
Won't hold back,  
Atleast I'll try.  
'Til you end with me,  
And show me_

"You need help?" he asks. His voice is so husky that she trembles harder and buttons fly all over her when she unknowingly pull at the fabric.

"Sorry," she says with an embarrassed smile.

"You can rip all my shirts if you like," he says, letting her push the fabric over his shoulders until the shirt gets stuck on his wrists. He gets on his knees and has to yank at it to get it off, and when he turns his head on her, he finds her sitting up, facing his chest.

"Bon-" the name gets stuck on his mouth – just like its owner got stuck into some part of his brain - because her hands go to the button of his jeans, then guide the zipper down the slider. Her graceful hands push them down and his full erection is exposed.

He's entirely made of white marble skin and decadent beauty.

"Exhibitionist," she accuses him with an exciting, intimate tone, because he's not wearing any underwear.

Bonnie's hands fly to his side and she looks up; the labored breath makes her round breast rise and fall and he needs to discover and trace them with his mouth and his tongue and his teeth, the way a blind man would.

He will, soon, he decides, but only after cupping her face with both hands and leaning down to kiss her again.

"I've been called worst," he says against her lips, "Usually by you."

Gently pushing her on her back again, he easily travels to one of her nipples, which he sucks on while holding her breast with both his hands. Her reaction is to tighten the hold of her knees on the sides of his chest and to sink her fingers in his black hair, to caress his scalp and look down on him.

Damon opens his mouth on her breast trying to get in his mouth as much of her as he can; it's a tamed, starved need that guides his mouth slowly over her, and she gasps and she moans and she writhes under him.

He caresses both her breast with his hands, feeling the nipple tickling his palms, and squeezes lightly, while he kisses the valley between them and goes south to stop at her navel. She says "Please, Damon," like she's falling down and she needs for him to catch her. Like she needs _him, _period. So he brings one hand between her legs and lets it slip under the cotton of her panties. They're tiny and the royal blue is richer on the center where she's damp. He caresses her, pushing the fabric down with the back of his hand, while his mouth goes back to give the proper attention to her breast; one finger traces her intimate lips making her shiver under him and he let it slip inside her.

It hardly does; she's tight. The idea of being inside her goes straight to his groin and makes him lightheaded, and when she moans his sight blurs for a long second. _Fuck._ If he doesn't get a hold of himself he's going to come in the wrong place.

The sounds she makes are sweet and just loud enough and they follow the rhythm of his finger working in and out of her, as does her pelvis. How she can be so tight is beyond him but she's ready for him and she smiles arching up as he stretches her with a second finger and he can't even find the train of his thoughts anymore.

"I w-a-ant more," it's a breathy, moaned decision and he wants to give her more. Wants to give her _everything_.

He feels predatory, feral with need, and yet playful. So he pushes her panties all the way down, balls the tiny thing into one hand and throws it behind his back, then goes up to find her mouth, moving like a cat, kissing his way up until his member pushes at once at her entrance to find his place inside of her.

_Beautiful,  
I'll show you wonderful,  
As we share the love.  
I'll show you everything,  
That you've ever dreamed of._

He enters her in one thrust, and he takes away both her breath and her virginity.

The feeling of the breaking of her hymen _paralyzes_ him; blue eyes stare into her face, looking at her tightened eyelids and he unwillingly shakes on his arms.

Bonnie is so tight that it feels painfully delicious to be inside her, and the conscious thought that he must not move now tortures him, but he must not.

It just occurs to him, that she's the purest thing he ever had. The turmoil of emotion that the thought sends over him almost swallows him whole.

Part of him wants to fuck her – _hard_; wants to possess and break and tear her apart and feast on her. But the other part, the part he chooses to listen to, tells him to cherish and worship her. Tells him she trusted him with this, with her body and her first time, and he wants it to be good for her. He wants for her to not regret it, ever.

"Bonnie," he says, with hoarse voice. He balances himself on his knees and one arm as he brings his free hand to her cheek to brush the skin with his fingertips. She doesn't look at him, just keeps her eyes closed to take in the pain.

"I didn't realize you-"

She shakes her head and opens her eyes.

"It's okay," she says, breathless, "It's done now," she adds, trying to look relieved that the worst part is over, but he tightens his jaw and fails to smile, "Not to scare you, or anything," he says cautiously, "But I'm barely half-way in."

"Oh, _God_," is the first thing that comes out from her mouth.

He presses his lips together trying to smile, but he's not sure he's doing it right.

"Are you trying to flatter me?" he asks, in his attempt to be playful, before becoming serious above her.

"I can make it okay," he tries to reassure her, "Or we can stop now," and if she will say to stop now he will, and then he'll go to shoot himself in the head because either way, he can't come out of this alive.

_Here we lie,  
Side by side.  
Now your heart pounds next to mine.  
Our two souls are surely whole,  
Now that I have realized:_

Bonnie looks at him, while he waits for an answer that seems to never come, and she notices his tight jaw, and his tense shoulders, and the strength he uses to keep himself up, to not touch more parts of her, and she realizes the will he's holding on to and the effort it takes him to not sink into her, not rut mindlessly, like he's probably used to, and something warm spreads in her chests. Right above her heart. And Bonnie feels more _present_ than ever, and suddenly so very brave that she tells him with no hesitation "I want you to make it okay."

_It's the way your body sways,  
It's your voices that calls my name.  
It's your lips the way they taste,  
And how you look at me,  
And show me_

Her thighs slid up to enclose his hips and her arms slips around his shoulders to hold him close. A pure, feminine instinct controls her legs.

"Let me in," he murmurs, his eyes so blue that she can't stop staring at them. And he kisses the tip of her nose, pushing slowly, deeper and deeper until he's completely eased inside her.

She accommodates him so well.

Her breath breaks and his body shake a little with the effort of being gentle. Damon pushes back until he's almost all out of her, and then drives in again. Bonnie arches up, her nipples brush his chest; her mouth opens to suck in the air.

The sight of her like this is so beautiful that he cannot breathe in himself.

_Beautiful,  
I'll show you wonderful,  
As we share the love.  
I'll show you everything,  
That you've ever dreamed of._

"Bonnie, bird, so sweet," he whispers against her cheekbone, panting above her, and then leaves a trail of kisses on her face, while he pushes almost all the way out, and then in. He's slow, until her moan of pain becomes one of pleasure.

This is so new to her, and so good, and she does not really know what she's doing but the fact is that she cannot stop, that she wants him so much that she can die.  
He nibbles at her jaw and her chin, and then starts increasing his pace.

Damon holds her by the waist and he kisses her deeply once, stroking her tongue with his. Then he puts his weight on one arm lying next to her, as he holds her up against him with his free hand slipped under her bottom to raise it so that he can go deeper.

He's forced to bite the inside of his mouth to keep the building rhythm steady for her.

Bonnie's moans gets louder, and she repeats, "Damon! Ah-yes" over and over again and he thinks that his name sounds better coming from her mouth. And her perfect, soft, warm body makes everything better.

She lifts her legs to enclose them around his waist, and he fills her again, and again; a tortuous sliding, yet an exquisite friction, another slow withdrawal, a quicker reentry, a smooth and deep penetration as he slightly changes his angle. And Bonnie's panting and gasps intensifies as Damon's pace escalates to border on madness.

_There couldn't possibly,  
Be more then this.  
I'm incomplete in other phase.  
(Stay with me.)  
(Stay with me.)  
Forevermore,  
Forevermore.  
You show me-_

He loves the way they fit together, the way she moves with him, in tandem, so perfectly. With the same sync they always shared during their teamed up jobs. A little voice inside his head whispers to him that _that_ should have warned him about how good they could be together. Should have made him realize by now who was the one who could take him. And yet he's not going to think about that now, because he can't think at all, can only _feel_. Feel so much that it will surely kill him.

Kill him, _oh_, so deliciously.

And when she comes around him, his release hits him immediately and his hips pump and jerk on their own volition, leaving him to find stability in lying spent over her. He just enjoys the feeling of their bodies pressed together, their chest moving up and down for the frantic breathing, as she lazily caresses his black hair and his spine.

_Beautiful,  
I'll show you wonderful,  
As we share the love.  
I'll show you everything,  
That you've ever dreamed of.  
That you've ever dreamed of.  
That you've ever dreamed of.  
That you've ever dreamed of._

#

He knows that the moment he'll look at her the spell will be broken. Reality will brutally set in and it will be over.

And more than anything else he's painfully aware that this won't happen again.

But he wants her. Just once more and maybe he'll be sated, maybe this desire will find peace too, the same way he briefly did.

So Damon brushes his cheek against her breast, then his mouth opens on her nipple and licks it slowly until she breathlessly say his name. One hand pinches at her pebbled nipple, until shivers of desire run down her spine, quivering through her.

"Ah, Damon."

Her mocha skin is flushed by her release and her renewed desire.

He moves over her soft belly, kissing his way down. When she says a panicked _no _at the light touch of his tongue_, _he asks her if she will let him try and make it okay.

#

It's more than okay, and when she's ready again he turns them so that he's under her, lying on his back, on the carpet. She rests her open palms on his chest, while he caressed her spine and looks up to her.

"This is your call," he says, "You can make of it anything you want."

Damon wants to make her take the lead; he wants to help her being brave with this as she is with anything else. He wants her to think of herself as passionate, instead of useful. Irresistible, instead of invisible.

She pushes against his chest to rise up above him. Her breast on display, and her dark hair falling around her face and on her shoulders.

She looks down, her hands are unsure but they go to touch his erection and Damon swallows a groan, making her look up. Bonnie smiles when she realizes what she has just done to him; seeing his want reflecting back.

She holds him at his base; his eyes are glued to her pretty, tiny hand around him and he watches her easing herself down over his erection. It's too much, and he groans again, trying to stay still to let her find the rhythm she desires.

All of the years drowning himself in instincts didn't teach him how to give up his needs. And now it's funny how much he _needs_ because of her, and how much he _won't _because of her.  
She goes up on her knees and then sinks on him again, very slowly. It's like she's learning her body, and his, and he closes his fists to his sides and keeps his eyes on her hoping he can do this for as long as she needs.

Which - _thanks to anything that's holy _– is not much.

"I can't-oh, -feels so good, -more," she says, with words broken by pleasure and need, and begs him, "help me, Damon, please."

Urgency builds between them and she can't keep up, but he can, so he guides her on his member holding her hips in his hands. Moving her so easily, so well, that her eyes roll back behind her eyelids.

"Like this?" he asks.

She only whimpers her _yesyesyes _because she can't find her breath and she can't remember other words but _yes_ and _Damon. _And she's pretty sure she begins to chant them both at some point but she can't bring herself to care.

His hands are on her hips and her hands are on his. The sight is so erotic it makes him groan.

Bonnie moves sinuously, skin shining because of the light of the candles on her, head thrown back, luscious breast bouncing because of the increasing tempo of their lovemaking.

Tearing his eyes away from her is impossible.

Damon knows - she will be the end of him.

#

Note: I'm really monumentally bad at writing this kind of stuff, but the story called for it so bear with me. Again, this chapter is been betaed by 1beaut. The song I used is "Forever more" by Broken Iris.


	22. Chapter 22

When she fell on him, breathless and spent, he kept her there with one hand open at the center of her back.

She was too tired to untangle herself without some sort of cooperation on his part and so, since he hadn't offered any, she had chose to rest on him. Bonnie had fell asleep two minutes after and Damon smiled, caressing her hair with his free hand, until he had reached out and grabbed his shirt from the ground to cover her up so she would not wake up from being cold.

She never trusted him with the simplest, harmless things, he thinks, and look at them now.

He's not so stupid to believe they are actually going to get anywhere with this, or that it will happen again, still, she trusted him with her first time, and she can sleep on him like she hasn't a worry in the world and he likes it.

He likes the way her heartbeat resound in his own ribcage, the way her skin feels pressed against his own and how her regular breath meets the hollow of his throat.

To think of it, they probably stained the carpet. Well, he doesn't care one bit.

He just wants to enjoy the feeling 'til it last. Which is more or less around seven in the morning, when Bonnie stirs against him and Damon must let go of her because she's pushing herself up, falling on his side. Their legs brushing together as she moves.

He zips his jeans and looks back at her.

Her lashes bat once, then twice and she stares at him, absorbing the fact that they really spent the night together, as the shirt falls from her back.

Damon doesn't say anything, just sits up and reaches for the shirt on the floor putting it back on her shoulders, as she covers herself with arms crossed on her chest. Bonnie watches him as he covers her carefully, and then helps her slipping her arms into it to wear it properly.

He closes the first button and another one that weakly hangs by its thread.

"Morning," he says, looking in her eyes.

She cannot hold his gaze for more than two seconds at the time, but the fact that she's not running away screaming is a good sign, he supposes.

When his cocky smile settles on his face Bonnie rolls her eyes.

"Morning," she says, trying to straighten up her spine. A whimper escapes her lips and she grimaces.

"Are you alright?" he asks, already guessing her answer.

"Yeah, I just feel so… sore," she admits with a scowl. If he's going to brag about his lover capabilities she will claw his eyes with her nails.

Her expression is so eloquent that he does his best to resist the impulse to tell her that _it happens when you ride someone an inch from their life, you know, _so he decides to be the good guy for five minutes since she's not totally awake and ready without her caffeine dose.

"I wonder why," he grins.

Bonnie shakes her head and look around her to find her clothes. The sweatshirt is a few steps away and she doesn't feel like walking at the moment.

"Isn't it too big for you?" he asks, referring to her Duke clothing. He really wants to know who the damn thing belongs to and why she would choose to _sleep_ in it.

"Yeah, it's my father's. I like it, and he never uses it anyway," she says, grateful to have something to ignore the embarrassment of waking up naked on top of Damon Salvatore. The vampire that took her virginity with her blessing; and a few, very eager encouragements if she must really be painfully sincere.

She pushes her hair from her face, but still cannot hold his gaze for long, so she stands slowly to take her things from the floor and tells him, "I think I'll go take a shower."

He nods casually "Yeah," and gets up turning his back on her, pretending to be busy putting stuff back to their place; he knows she's not inviting him to join her, and he knows that if he jokes about it she'll clear things up right now and he'll end up regretting it, so it's kind of a bitter relief to hear her steps as she leaves the room.

_Oh God_, what did he get himself into?

#

Her hand travels from the right side of the mirror, covered in steam, to the left one. The movement leaves a clean band of space in which her eyes and her cheekbones are reflected back to her.

The last drop of water from the shower falls on the ceramic of the shower plate, behind the curtain half opened.

She wraps herself into a soft towel and turns to enter her bedroom. The window is ajar and the curtain flutters very lightly as a tepid breeze reaches the wet skin on her back and she shivers as she looks at herself in the full-figured mirror.

It's not because she feels cold, quite the opposite.

She looks at herself in the mirror, her grip tightens on the closed towel around her body and she remembers every part of her that's been touched by Damon that night. Bonnie thinks that maybe his hands, tracing her skin inch by inch, found some sort of switch and turned it on, because she feels so different, like her nerves are glowing.

The air is thicker, the colors are brighter, and she feels the earth through her viscera. Everything inside her is completely awake.

If she had her powers now, she's sure she would feel it pulsating through all of her. Sex and power have a much real connection when it comes to witches; she could never understand how that was possible 'til now, even if she's magic deprived for the moment.

She takes off the towel slowly letting it fall on the floor, half expecting to find new veins of black magic on her skin, but it looks exactly as it always did. Yet, she feels so very conscious of her body, of every curve. So _female_.

Bonnie inspects herself, looking for a sign of what she did the precious night, to not find any; she's almost disappointed that she cannot see Damon's fingertips on her hips, on her breast, anywhere he touched, but she shushes the thought.

They had one wonderful night, but nothing's changed between them. She wouldn't want it to, either, because there's only one direction their relationship would go if it moved from there: down the drain.

He can only love Elena; and she cannot love him. She better keep it in mind.

#

When Bonnie enters the kitchen Damon is cutting vegetables and has a dishtowel on his right shoulder. The whole room smells of fresh coffee and she takes her mug from the cabinet.

She waits for him to say something but he doesn't. He doesn't even look up at her until she starts playing with the mug in her hands.

The silence is unbearable. They are good at fighting, at screaming, at trying to kill each other. Yes, it comes out they are good at many other things that can still make her shiver if she lets herself think about it, but this is not the point.

The point is that this kind of silence is not comfortable, at all.

"So, about last night," she begins, as he keep on cutting. "Damon, listen-" she says, and he raises his head to look her straight in the eyes with a stark look in his.

"This is not the part where you come to me to tell me that _it was a moment of weakness, it was an error, it didn't have to happen,_" his voice is a mocking imitation of the female tone, "right?" he asks, almost aggressively, "Because I believe you to be more original than that."

Bonnie gasps and blinks, thrown by his brusque ways, but doesn't falter, "That's not what I was about to say."

"Really?" he asks, and this time is voice is much gentler, "You don't think I took advantage of you, do you?"

He's been recalling the events of the previous night; her face talking about Jeremy and her loneliness, and how he wanted her so much that he was blind to anything else, and he doesn't know anything anymore.

He's always been the summary of everything she despised, and he fears that he'll be back soon at being only that.

Damon was never good at giving things up once he had them. Or even when he didn't.

"What?" she asks back, grimacing, "No, no, of course not! If I remember correctly how things went, I had many chances to stop you and I never did, did I?"

"I am that good after all. You were helpless against me from the start," he jokes, "it's not your fault."

Bonnie rolls her eyes, and sighs.

She had been so nervous about how they were going to face each other now; obviously, all the worrying had been useless, because nothing has changed.

"You don't regret it?" he asks, seriously this time.

She's startled by the question. Leave it to Damon to jump from one light moment to an earth-shattering question in the blink of an eye.

"I-"

She really doesn't know how to answer to this question but she needs to try if anything else because she thinks she owns him that much.

"Well, let's face it," Bonnie says, "You're not exactly the one I figured I would have lost my virginity to."

"That's because you don't aim high enough," Damon says with a cocky smile.

She needs to hold to all of her will power to not throw something in his face. Or smile to his terrible attitude.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she says, "Anyway, I don't regret it," she admits, "It was… rather… good."

Now, if only the earth would open up and swallow her whole. God, can this situation get any worse?

"And even if we are not… _in love_," she says those two words with the same sentiment if she was actually talking about a fungal infection, "obviously," she adds; his mood is completely sobered by now - just to use an euphemism - as she keeps on talking, "I'm glad that it happened with someone I came to trust as a friend, you know."

It takes Damon a moment to be able to go back to his usual, cocky self. Well, of course Bonnie doesn't love him, it's not like he loves her either. And she trusts him, that's great, isn't it?

"It doesn't hurt either that your _trusted_ friend is America's wet dream, really," he says, batting his lashes to her.

"Oh, God," she says looking up at the ceiling, "Why are you punishing me so?"

"Such a religious person, you're truly praiseworthy," he says, "I remember you calling out to God many times last night, too."

"Are you done?" Bonnie asks, trying to not let her irritation or her embarrassment show. She remembers way too well where Damon knelt, where his capable, irritating mouth was when she called out to God last night.

"I'm not even halfway in… my reminiscing time," he replies, using the same words he used during the previous night.

"Well, _stop,"_ she demands, felling her cheeks burn, "It wasn't _that_ great anyway," she lies, walking to the fridge to take blood. Her movements to the fridge and back are slow, she feels tired, which is really nothing new lately. And she supposes it's to be expected after such a _challenging_ night.

Bonnie pours blood in Damon's mug, as he protests, "Oh, _please_. I did a number on you."

"Far be it from me to burst your bubble," she answers, pouring coffee into her mug.

He looks at her like he's asking _seriously?_

"You know what?" he asks, "We can do it again and keep scores. I'll buy you a blackboard."

Damon can be so childish. She laughs, shaking her head, and looks away.

For the un-life of him, he cannot stop looking at her; maybe he got a concussion, maybe he's out of his freaking mind, maybe his ego is feeding on her beauty and makes him see things but, for a moment, she looks like she's been set alight from the inside. He would like to think that, and that he's the one responsible of it.

"You just want to do that because _I _did a number on you and you can't get enough of me!" she jokes back.

Luckily for him she's having too much fun fighting with him over nothing to notice that for a moment his eyes stopped smiling, because, what if she's right? What if he can never stop wanting her?

But that can't be, because he loves _Elena_. He'll always love Elena.

Right?


	23. Chapter 23

"_Honey_…" he calls with an amused voice, entering from the front door, "I'm home!"

He's not really waiting for her to run into his arms wearing an apron and a smile – and possibly nothing else – but hope dies last, doesn't it? Oh well, he went out playing the part of the dutiful friend to be away from her and clear his mind, so he's certainly not complaining on her lack of wife-y attitude, not really. Not that much.

Still, he can't hear her heartbeat anywhere near so he walks around the house, bags in his hands, to find her. He sees her through the glass of the French doors. She's lying on her back on the green grass of the garden, arms outstretched and palms open to the sky. Her dark curls against the green makes a lovely contrast. Her features are perfectly carved, and she looks calm even though she's not smiling; he knows she's fighting her way up from the bottom. She's been asking from herself so much, for so long, that it's too hard to do otherwise now, or to accept that she did something wrong.

He leaves one bag, the one with the clothes he took from her house, next the French doors, and goes into the kitchen to put in the fridge the food he went buying.

Stefan is filling up a jug of orange juice, and there's a mixer, carrots and half a lemon on the counter top; Damon didn't even know they had a mixer to begin with.

One of Stefan's eyebrows rises as he sees him carrying a brown paper bag. Well, his Martha Stewart version scares him too, so how can he blame his young, impressionable little brother?

"See what I have to do because you can't get back your lazy ass from your vampire-Bambi girlfriend?" he asks, careful to show he's irritated by the fact that he had to lower himself to such tasks.

"If I knew what would happen I would have stayed around," Stefan answers, and somehow his serious tone suggests Damon he's not talking about shopping. Still, he supposes deflowering a virgin can make him feel a bit more self-centered than usual, so it's totally possible that Stefan knows nothing about what happened between him and Bonnie the night before; after all Stefan is not exactly the jovial type.

"What are you doing?"

"I think it's quite evident, don't you think?" Stefan asks back, "What _you_ are doing, on the other hand, it's not really so clear."

They don't look at each other. Stefan's shoulders are tense and his expression is hard, while Damon feels suddenly cornered by his brother's words and last night memories.

"We'll have to have a talk, brother, about the birds and the bees, since-"

"Stop it!"

Stefan turns to him and Damon raises his eyes.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"It's like riding a bike, you know, once you learn-"

"Damon," Stefan's voice is grave and he knows that he can't joke his way out of this forever.

"She's hurt enough," he adds.

"You really think that I'm trying to hurt her?" Damon asks, half offended, half worried.

"No, I don't, but she's vulnerable and you-" Stefan stops in the middle of this speech that's been going on for a while in his head. His brother has spent so long trying to hold Elena's heart, has been led by his feelings for her for so long, even when he had other women sharing his bed, and somehow he can't believe he would stop loving her, ever.

But he's biased, because Stefan can only love Elena. Because Stefan has been longing for Elena the moment he was old enough to understand what it means to love something. He's been longing for Elena when he laid eyes on Katherine; whom was only the mere shadow of what could truly complete him. And so he cannot think of love without thinking of Elena.

And yet, he saw with his own eyes the way his brother and Bonnie challenge and understand each other, on a level that's precluded to anyone else. He saw Damon holding her, and arguing with her instead of just acting in spite of what she thinks; and, go figure, _listening_, too.

Stefan cannot just label what happened like he knows, because at this point he's pretty sure Damon himself doesn't know what happened. Or why.

His brother can be a perfect stranger to his own heart.

Stefan sighs and shakes his head.

"I trust you to spare me the lecture, brother, since it never worked before anyway," Damon says, annoyed.

"I should kick your ass," Stefan says with a lighter voice. There's nothing he can really do now, after all, and Bonnie looks fine. At least, as fine as she can be with everything she'sbeen through lately.

"What do you expect?" Damon asks, "Do you want me to take responsibility and repair to the disgrace I brought upon her? Should I remind you you're not her father?"

"But I'm her friend."

"I am, too," Damon says, "Just a bit more _intimate,"_ he jokes winking at him.

Damon's way of working his way out of an uncomfortable moment is to use irony and make people mad, but Stefan had centuries of practice so he doesn't flinch. Nor let him have his way.

"I thought the point of me staying around so often was to not let you become so _intimate _with her."

Damon is surprised by his reply. It's always startling to realize how much they understand each other, even if it happens in the most inconvenient of the occasions.

"So we can blame it all on you, then. That's great. I like this solution a lot better."

"What are you thinking to do now?" he presses.

"Oh, hell!" his reply is loud and exasperated, "I don't know! Do you think I planned all this? I didn't!" he admits, "I'm not saying I never thought about it, okay? I did think about it, I'm not _that _dead after all, but it wasn't supposed to happen! It wasn't supposed to, and she wasn't supposed to be so fucking beautiful and casual about this, and you're giving me hell over nothing!" he's really tired of being told off, "And may I remind you that we're talking about Bonnie here? Do you really think there's _anyone_ on this freaking planet that could force her into something? _Anything_?"

"No, I don't."

"Good."

"So, she's casual, huh?" he asks, with a light smile and Damon pictures for a moment how delightful it would be to tear away his tongue and use it to make himself a tie, "As in _thanks for the sex, would you pass me the salt please _kind of casual?"

"You really have the worse post coital conversations, you know that?" Damon replies grimacing, ignoring his brother's question, "Judgy and I are on the same page, here. Everything's normal. It's no big deal."

"No _big_ _deal_, huh? I understand," Stefan says looking very serious, "And you shouldn't worry, they say size doesn't matter."

"Funny."

Bonnie's voice prevents them from persisting on the topic. She calls out for both of them and once she's in the room she scans their faces for any sign of their usual arguments.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yes," Stefan says with a smile.

"Totally," Damon adds with what she knows it's a fake one.

She can guess the topic of their argument. The usual one; Elena. And she has no intention to torture herself digging into the details of Damon's undying love for her friend. She's not _that _masochist.

"If you say so," she says, ready to turn around and leave them alone

"Actually," Stefan speaks again and she stops to look at him, "We were talking about you."

Damon looks scathingly at him but his brother has his back to him and so it's wasted effort.

"We think you're a lot better and that you'll be able to go back home very soon," he says with a smile.

She blinks and Damon is thrown. There's not one sound in the kitchen.

"Oh, well," she says, clearing her throat, "That's good news. Right?"

Bonnie takes a breath and tries her hardest to think of all the things she's been missing while she was imprisoned in the boarding house, all the things she will have a chance to do again, the place she'll be able to go, the people she'll meet. Bonnie tries her hardest to smile brightly and be happy about it, but she's so tired and she's not sure she succeeded.

There's something she'll be missing, and even if she cannot admit it to herself right now, she knows she'll have to eventually, because she's still there and her heart hurts already.

"I mean, I was getting claustrophobic," she adds.

"I can imagine," Stefan says.

"I'm not used to sharing my living space with other people for so long, it will be a relief to get some space."

And when she looks at Damon, silent and immobile, he finds nothing else to say but "Tell me about it. But when you're as handsome as me, you get used to the flock," he says without looking at her in the eyes.

"So many egos, so little reason," she says, turning and leaving the room.

"I don't remember we were discussing about her leaving the house," Damon rushes to say between his teeth once she's far enough.

Stefan turns to him to answer "She'll have to, eventually."

"_Eventually _is the key word."

"She needs to trust herself again."

"What if it's too soon?"

"It's not, and we'll make sure she leaves only when she's ready. I think a week or two will be enough."

Stefan sounds so reasonable, and he's the prudent one, isn't he? Yet Damon wants to protest, wants to say he's wrong even if he's probably not. He wants to tell him she _needs_ to stay.

But he doesn't.

#

She stands at the French doors looking outside and he can only see her back. He can catch a faint reflex of her face on the glass but he turns his eyes to not see her. If there's any trace of eagerness to go back to her life before their forced cohabitation, which would be totally understandable, he doesn't want to know, because he's not so eager himself.

And what a blow it would be for his ego - for his heart - to know that he's the only one reluctant to let the other go.

He really needs to remember why it is a good idea to have his house freed of any witchy, judgy presence.

She's an infamous pain in the ass. She thinks she's always right, and she usually dares to be so. She monopolizes his ability to sleep. She makes him do terrible things, like grocery shopping and cooking. She gives him ominous, lusty desires, walking around the house without the faintest idea of the effect she has on him, and shouldn't have, since he's in love with another girl. Yes, he is, of course he is. How could he not be? Right?

But for how much he loves Elena, for how much Bonnie makes him crazy and her leaving should clearly be a news worth celebrating, there's no part of him happy about it. Instead there's something in the middle of his chest sinking a little bit at the very idea to see her go.

That's stupid. She won't be in another planet, she'll live across town where she's always been, and he can casually pass by and check on her. Offer her a drink.

Make sure she doesn't date losers.

With her poor taste in men he thinks it would be far better for her to not date _at all, _at least until she's mature enough and realizes what she's worth, which should be around thirty or even later, just to be sure, because you can't rush those things nor settle for less then what you deserve, really, and anyway how many men can truly hope to be able to handle such a feisty, powerful little thing?

Yes, she shouldn't date anyone. _Ever_. He's only being reasonable here. That's the better solution.

Of course it would be a waste, but men nowadays are so incapable to treat a woman properly; she'd end up either with a spineless imitation of a man or a pig that can't wait to get into her pants for some horizontal activity, so it would be a lot better if she gave up on the dating plan entirely. If she needs sex, which at some point she will, she has a trustworthy friend like him willing to help her.

Really, he'll give his _everything_ to help her.

Because he cares for her, and they understand each other, and he likes the way she laughs when he jokingly tries to bargain for another _Tête_-à-_tête_, and this fucking boardinghouse will be a boring black hole without her.

So it's totally understandable if he doesn't like the idea that she'll go away, and it doesn't mean anything more than that. Really. He just loves her, like a friend. An annoyingly beautiful one. But that's all.

"Are you going outside?" he asks.

She turns her head over her shoulder and then looks back beyond the glass of the doors.

He counts the seconds until she speaks. Her voice is so familiar, and it should belong to that place, he thinks. It should fill the air around him, starting from now so that he can have as many doses of her as he is capable of. And he's capable of many things, as he amply demonstrated.

"No," she says, "I've had enough for today," she lies.

She's been longing for fresh air and sun for days, but now it feels _so_ wrong to put more space between them. It's an irrational thought, one she can't admit aloud but, yet, she can't bring herself to leave that house, not even to take a breath in the garden.

There will soon be plenty of space between them, she'll have all the time and reasons to tell herself how right, how good it is to be away from Damon, but right now she needs to stay near him as much as possible. She really needs him, from the bottom of her being.

"I- uhm, I was bored so I rented a few movies," he says casually, meeting her eyes when she turns to look at him, "I'll let you watch 'em with me if you promise to not feel me up through my pants while I'm distracted."

She smiles lightly, rolling her eyes.

"You're _so_ delusional," she says, with emphasis.

"I know you can't really help it, don't worry, and once you do the unspeakable to me I'll find the inner strength to forgive you."

"Do you write your lines beforehand?" she asks, shaking her head.

"Nope, I'm a real wonder and you bring out the best of me," he winks, "Feel free to weep for joy. I can even put on a country song if it helps the mood. You know, something kind of dramatic that says how much you like me."

"Do you have something dramatic, period, that says how much I'd like you to pull your head out of your ass?" she asks with a smile.

"I'll have you know this dirty talk really do works on me," he grins theatrically.

"You are such an ego-maniac," she says with a sigh, "What do you want to watch?"

"Why, little bird! You forgot sex god," he says, and then answers her question, "I was thinking about watching_ Iron Man_."

"An Egocentric, whore-man, and king of the party that loves to have an audience and smash stuff. Go figure," she smiles ironically.

"Don't swoon too much, Pepper."

Their sparring sessions feel warm, comfortable, and it's like, for a few moments, they suddenly _know_ where they fit in the world; even Stefan doesn't dare to intrude in their private corner once that, standing on the doorstep, he sees them watching the movie, while throwing ironic remarks at each other.

The younger Salvatore is quite surprised to realize what a perfect sense his brother and Bonnie make together.

#

"It will be Bonnie's birthday in a few days," Stefan says as leaves the empty glass on the coffee table and gets up.

It's getting late and it's hunting night for him and Elena, so he needs to go.

Damon looks his way over his drink but doesn't say anything.

"Since she'll still be staying here we thought we could host a party at the boardinghouse."

"If someone stains my Persian carpet I'll snap their neck and throw their body in the garbage," he says. As his lips meet the glass once again, the previous night, he spent on that same carpet, flashes in his mind. The sight of Bonnie is so clear into his blue orbs that he tries to blinks it away with no result.

"They're not undisciplined pets," Stefan says.

"Worse. They're teenagers," Damon replies, "I'll probably have to tear someone away from the leg of the dining table."

"People with no self-control in the sexual department," his brother says, "You could teach them."

The irony is so clear that Damon is tempted to break him a bone or two, but his brother is not as stupid as he accuses him to be and he says goodnight before the discussion can go any further.

That's good because Bonnie, in his head, is back on top of him. Once again naked and flushed. Her dark hair framing her pretty face and caressing her shoulders as she moves up and down on his erection and her breast bounce for the pleasure of his eyes.

Velvety skin, round bosom, dark chocolate nipples. So painfully gorgeous.

The sound of her moans, of her tongue caressing his name is so good that his lashes tremble and his eyes close remembering every tiny detail his mind can call onto.

The image of her hands on his as he guides her on his member, holding her by the hips to help her learn the rhythm of their riding, is so vivid, so erotic that he groans a _fuck _and brings his hands to his face, letting them pass in his hair, like he can erase them from his brain the way you can erase a drawing that's been made on a blackboard with a piece ofchalk.

Yet, she stays there; passionate and beautiful and innocently wild, under all the threats and the reasoning he feeds his mind with.

But even if he can stop himself from relishing in the memory of their encounter, he can still feel the _wanting_ cornering him into his own head, the need to give in, like he's some sort of hormonal young boy. All because of her.

His mouth is dry, his blood runs faster, his jeans are tight and "I really need to get _monumentally_ drunk."

He always knew she was a pain in the ass.

#

**Note:** I'm really grateful for your support, I have stumbled lately on a few Tumblr post that mentions _Dormiente_ and knowing you love this story really pushes me to do my best to write it, stay true to the characters and update often. Some of you are so precious to me that I would like to do nothing else all day long but write until your heart is content. This last part of the note though goes to a small part of my reviewing guests: I think I can truthfully say that my updates are pretty frequent (at least for now), and I know you probably mean no disrespect but it's kind of mortifying to read review merely consisting in "commanding" me to update or to inform me that waiting for my updates sucks. Please, don't misunderstand me, I accept any kind of review, if you like or don't like the story it's okay to say so, I do my best to take any kind of criticism as a spur to do better, but posting anonymous review is no excuse for treating me like I am at fault. I would love to content you, but as everyone else I have moments when I'm stuck, plus exams time is starting again for me, and to not mention some pretty serious personal matters which I'm not going to justify myself for, so please be understanding.


	24. Chapter 24

If someone else shows their face at his door he's going to sell entry tickets, he thinks as he watches Matt walking towards the others, sitting on his sofa. The exchange of pleasantries is so boring that he tunes it out, but Jeremy's hand on Bonnie's knees makes him grind his teeth.

The boy pats her knee and holds it in a supportive gesture. Damon would like to tear his hand off his wrist and use it to play retrieve with the dog. He'll buy one just for that and call him _stupid ex-boyfriend_.

He lost half their deep and meaningful comforting conversation while tearing limbs of Jeremy apart in his mind but he catches on the important part.

"She just needs time to process what really happened," Elena says.

"You know her," Matt cuts in with his perpetual good smile, "She can't really hold a grudge more than a few hours, and not against you. I'm pretty sure she's already sorry about what happened between you two."

This gets him a smile from Bonnie and she mutters a _thanks._

"She got rid of her cellphone and Tyler's when they left town so there was no way to contact her when... I mean, after you got better," the young Gilbert says.

The scene would be boring him to tears if it wasn't that Jeremy's hand is still there, on Bonnie's knee. Seriously, is it glued?

Damon feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing a bit when the boy takes away his hand, but then he placed it in the middle of her back, stroking her in a slow motion as he whispers "I know you did the best you could," and leans in to touch her temple with his forehead, and Damon needs to leave the fucking room before he snaps. His neck, again, that is. He knows he would never hear the end of it.

Bonnie is such a spoilsport when it comes to him having too much fun.

"I was thinking that maybe I could-"

"You're not really trying to say what I think you're trying to say, are you?" Damon cuts in before Bonnie can actually finish her sentence.

"This is been going on too long," she answers.

Elena looks at them trying to pick up on their conversation but it's too blurry considering they don't actually say anything consistent.

"That's why a few days more won't change a thing," Damon says trying his best to sound reasonable. He's not good at this. He likes to have his way, one way or the other. _Act first, make a fake apology later. _

"I think I can-"

"So you wanna bet with my life?" he asks, stopping her.

He's not going to fall for her weak reasons and give her back her powers so that she can make Caroline happy. She can't be sure she can fix this mess and not kill them all in the process. And she is always so tired lately; falling asleep against his shoulders as they watch movies or as she reads books. What if it's the last straw for her body?

He's not going to give her his blessing to kill herself, and he knows nothing works better against her then guilt; moreover he can't really say his true reasons aloud without causing some _wrong_guessing about his feelings, that's why he plays the selfish card: his self-preservation.

Damon holds her gaze and she lets it go.

"I need a glass of blood, anyone care to join me?" he asks, and he's not used to have Elena following him to the kitchen to share his liquid meal, and yet she's the one drinking with him.

Her hands hold the glass and she takes a sip, looking like a child having her milk. Her upper lip is wet with blood and she licks it away.

It slips past him the fact that he doesn't find the scene endearing or sexy; his mind is not really in the room with her right now.

"It seems like you and Bonnie are... coming to terms with each other," she says, with a careful, safe choice of her words.

"Really?" he asks, "Yeah, I suppose," he adds shrugging.

Watching his face it looks like Bonnie is a subject that makes him weary, yet Elena has this feeling that won't let her be assured by his uncaring facade. There are moments, like right before, when they seem to share a private language. They won't let each other finish a sentence or explain themselves before replying, like they don't need the amount of words all the others need to understand.

She feels cut out and she hates it. It's petty, it's stupid, she knows that, but her life is such a mess and Damon is her safety net and he's not there for her anymore. It's yet another certain that slips away from her.

"Stefan said you don't mind that we are hosting her surprise party here," she says, trying to get more out of him.

"You know I could never deny anything to you," he says with a charming smile. She wants to feel reassured by his words; his blind dedication towards her could always move something in her - even if she could never tell herself if her vanity or her heart - but now his words sound so trite, so empty, like a scene which is been repeated so many times that the actor lost its feeling.

"Needless to say, I count on being adequately repaid," he says with a wink, taking a sip from his glass.

Elena smiles flirt-y; it's almost a reflex, really, like a panic reaction. She doesn't mean to, she just can't help herself.

His smile sobers a bit and he finally looks at her like he really sees her.

"How are you adjusting to your new diet?"

"I can't look at my stuffed bunnies anymore. Dirty conscience," she replies with a smile, "and I miss chocolate, but all considered I think I'm doing well."

"When you get tired of the marry-go-round I can take you on a real ride," he offers.

She feels tempted. She's curious to give a look on the wild side. Be adventurous; enjoy the thrills of being a vampire.  
Part of her wants to take his offer, see the world next to him. Enjoy his passion, his adoration, everything he can offer to her.

"Wouldn't it be nice?" she whispers, almost to herself.

The other part of her asks her if Stefan would join her on this ride.

For how tempted she is she knows in the end she can't do anything that would force her to part from Stefan. What joy can you find in experience things if you don't have a heart to love them? Stefan is that for her. Her very heart.

She can be weak and fickle and he's her rock. It's a fair exchange: she makes him human and he makes her better.

Damon cups her cheek and she closes her eyes for a moment, to enjoy the feeling. _Oh, greedy Elena_, she scolds herself, and yet lately he's so distant, so unfocused on her, what's wrong in keeping him just a bit? There's a little voice inside her mind that reminds her that he had promised to be there for her, he had sworn he loved her and only her and so it's not _that_wrong of her to demand that he keeps his word.

"What it is?" he asks making her open her eyes, "What it is that keep us apart?"

He built himself a place in her heart and was there for her during Stefan's absence and yet the passion he could entice in her didn't stop her from going back to his brother. Her humanity made her so pure and yet now that she is a vampire and so less chained by her previous nature nothing really changed. Nothing ever will, and it feels quite comforting.

"I know you have feelings for me," he says, "I know you love me," and she takes a step back abandoning his touch.

"Tell me the truth," but he hears no eagerness in his own voice, he feels no desire in his heart as he asks her.

"I... do love you," she answers, "I love your way to hold on to the people you love and the way you're so dedicated. Sometimes you make me feel so careless, so powerful and I like that."

He should feel better after this confession and yet he doesn't. There's something missing into this conversation.

"And what it is that you love about my brother?"

Elena blinks and shakes her head "I don't know."

"It doesn't make sense," he says, sounding like he's talking to himself.

"I can't point it out... I don't have a reason to love him, you know," she admits, trying to explain herself the better she can but knowing that words cannot explain it "When I found out he was a vampire I told myself I could not love him. I made lists of reasons," she says almost laughing "why I could not love him and I had to move on but my heart wouldn't let me. Maybe I could find someone else like him but it wasn't Stefan and I just couldn't bear the thought," she shrugs, "I can never _not _love him."

He realizes that Elena is a promise meant to not be kept and, strangely, it doesn't hurt so much.

When he hugs her - closing both her in his arms and a wound he thought he would be picking at forever - he doesn't realize Bonnie is standing at the door, watching them.

#

"The golden couple has gone scaring bunnies?"

His voice stops her on the stairs, and Bonnie turns her head to see him at the feet of the flight. She doesn't answer immediately but he already knows where Elena and Stefan went, and that they'll be back soon; the only purpose of asking was to stop her from going back to her room.

"Already going to bed?" he asks, "This way you'll be missing out on the best part of the night."

"Which would be?"

"Me, of course."

The ghosts of a smile touches her lips but it's not enough, he thinks. He wants her to smile at him.

"Only if one has really low standards," she answers. She's tired; of this golden prison, of this triangle drama, of her heart aching every time she thinks that _it_is almost over.

"You wound me, little bird," he says bringing a hand to his chest and faking pain, "C'mon, don't leave me," he jokes, and yet he sounds more serious then what he had planned to.

Bonnie sighs and looks like she's considering it over.

"You could even gain something for your good deed," he says, making her turn her eyes with curiosity, "Let's say... a gift, who knows."

"How many possibilities do I have to gain this _hypothetical _gift?" she asks turning and taking a step towards him.

"Are we bargaining on the rate of return, or it's more like service change? Because in that case it depends on the _service_."

"I'm not _servicing _you in any way," she clarifies stark, crossing her arms under her breast.

"You just ruined a perfectly romantic moment," he accuses her with a pout.

"I think you have a strange idea about romantic stuff," she says.

"Nonsense, everyone enjoys a good spanking and some leather every once in a while," he answers, "if it's not with your prison roommate named Brutus."

She does her best not to laugh, "Do you ever have a single conversation that does not end in sexual proposals?"

"What? Did you say something?" he asks back, looking confused, "I was busy watching your breast," he adds, but before she can say anything he take the steps between them and offers her his hand.

"I'm asking you to accord me a little of your time," he tells her with a rare, sincere light smile, "You can even keep your clothes on if you feel like it, it's not like that can stop me anyway," he jokes and winks at her.

"Don't you have some conscience? C'mon. I could burn down the house because of the unbearable boredom."

Bonnie rolls her eyes but takes his hand following him down the stairs.

"Fine, I'll give you half an hour, not one minute more," she concedes.

"Good. I'm taking it."

"But, after that, I'll go," she says, almost like she's warning him, "You won't keep me forever."

Damon shrugs, tugging her after him towards the manor hall and enjoying the feeling of her warm hand in his, but, he thinks, the idea of _forever_ is actually not that bad. Not that bad, at all.

#

"What?" she asks, hiding her pouting mouth behind her glass of bourbon. That stuff smells so strongly that she must hold her breath to not throw up on the spot and Damon looks at her intently, waiting for the right moment to make fun of her poor ability to drink liquors.

"I can still make you a mug of hot milk," he says, "I would even add some cacao to make it more risky."

Bonnie hold her chin high and takes a gulp of bourbon doing her best not to cringe too much for the burning taste in her mouth, but as soon as the liquid reaches her stomach she starts coughing and Damon is suddenly next to her patting her back and saying in a mocking tone "There, there."

She slaps his arm away but that only makes him choke on a laugh.

He stupidly feels like tickling her, slip his hands under her shirt and then make love to her on that couch. Indulge in such a fantasy is so easy, especially now that he knows the taste of her mouth and the warmth of being inside her, and he must keep himself under control every single second to not slip and kiss her out of the blue.

For the un-life of him he cannot keep up with the effect she has on him. Shouldn't he be somewhere drowning his sorrow in alcohol and reminiscing his time with the fair Elena? Why is he so _merry _on Bonnie?

"Right," he says, sounding all reasonable "I'll wait here until you faint and then I'll give you a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

She turns to him with a scowl but Damon thinks that she only managed to look delectable, so he turns, resting his back against the cushion behind him and crosses his legs at the ankles, just to keep himself from ruining everything with the wrong move.

"You're a terrible drinking buddy," he says.

"You're terrible in general," she replies flat, holding her glass with both hands, "Everything's alright?"

It takes him a moment to get her question. She doesn't even turns her head towards him, just steals a glance at him.

"I came in the kitchen before... but you and Elena didn't hear me..." she says, without explaining further. The lines of her serious face are tense.

"Are you worried about me or about Stefan?" he asks.

Bonnie turns to him, her eyes accuse him to be unreasonable and yet he has no intention to be otherwise.

"Can't I be worried about both?" she asks.

"No, you can't. I'd like to have the exclusive right for once," and his blue eyes fix themselves on her pinning her down on the couch "So pick one and stick with it."

Yes, he's childish, unreasonable, hot blooded and half the time he deserves to be kicked in the ass and then some. He's not going to pretend he is anything else but what he is, and she should not pretend she's not the only one who can take him.

"Okay then," she just says and he looks like he's hanging from a thread, waiting for her to snap it. Bonnie thinks she can understand him; this is why she amuses him and his childish behavior.

"I'm picking you," she adds and it sounds so good. He knows that it doesn't mean much, and yet _she's picking him. _Only his judgy witch would pick the homicidal vampire she grills on regular basis over the righteous brother.

There's a smile in his eyes and he can't really manage his emotions right now so he stands and takes a step from the couch turning to ask her "So, do you want your gift now?"

He's still looking for a decent birthday gift but the moment he saw it through the glass of the store he just brought it on instinct. He had told himself it was for him, that he was bored and brought something like every American with trouble sleeping and commercial channels does but in the end he wanted her to have it.

"I deserve it for putting up with such a vain creature."

"Shh," he says, raising his index to his pink lips, "Be tactful. What if my brother hears you?"

Bonnie scowl at him again and, as he leaves the room, she reminds him "Tick, tock,"

_Hey angels there,over her head,_

_tell me the time hasn't come_

He didn't wrap it because it seemed pointless and so the sleeve lays there, on display, on his nightstand. The cover has soft tones of blue and pink and it shows logs reflected on the tranquil water. In the middle stands out the title _Islands _and he thinks that someway it suits them.

_Have mercy, please, on the one that I love_

_Her body is too weary to run_

He goes down the stairs turning the sleeve in his hands, to check what number it is the track she loves. He's sure she'll skip all the others to listen to that one first.  
On the doorstep he sees her half lying on the couch, eyes closed and hair half covering her lovely cheek, and he is torn about waking her up. Damon decides he can let her have a few minutes, maybe he can put on the cd he brought for her, wake her up with the music she likes, but as he frees the sleeve from the plastic protection he realizes that the silence in the room is deafening, terrible and his ears almost hurt as he strives to hear.

_Now suddenly a thunderous sound,_

_like wings have takes flight._

_Straight up, straight out from under the ground._

_She's gone in the darkening sky._

He turns around to look at her. His arms fall at his sides and _Ludovico Einaudi's essential _crashes to the floor producing a sharp, empty sound. Damon flashes at her side, kneeling next to her to adjust her body and open her mouth. With a cruel bite at his wrists he fills her mouth with blood. If she was alive she would probably be chocking on it right now, but she is not. Not anymore. The sound of her heart is lost to his ear and the blood going down her throat can't bring her back.

_Oh my love,_

_Stay my love.._.

In his hands she's nothing much then an empty doll made of flesh. A flesh witch will become stiff and will start to rot soon, his mind tells him, yet he can't hear a thing, not even his own voice repeating "Bonnie. You're fine, aren't you?" over the delicate sound of hers warning him _I'll go, you won't keep me forever._

His mind rebuilds the last thirty minutes over and over trying to find the moment when he could have seen this happening but it can't. And it can't be happening.

_Little bird, C'mon, don't leave me, I'm asking you to accord me a little of your time - Fine,_ _I'll give you half an hour, not one minute more. But, after that, I'll go. You won't keep me forever. Tick, tock._

"It's not happening," he says, his voice so far like he's at the bottom of the ocean, "Not happening" so much so that he's about to scream. But its Elena's scream that breaks the air first. She reaches the couch in a flash to shake Bonnie out of her final sleep and somehow ends up pushing Damon away from the lifeless body of her friend in the process. The new vampire cries her friend's name, laments how unfair it is for her to die now, asks _Why? What happened?_ She repeats _Bonnie, no please_. Stefan tries his best to calm her down and push back his own tears as he holds her back and watches Bonnie's eyes closed and her mouth and chin dirty with his brother's blood.

_Oh my love,_

_Stay my love_

Damon is petrified, with icy eyes wide open. His brain is numb as his cold skin. He feels _nothing _anymore_._

_Tick, tock._

_#_

**Note: **This story is getting harder to write and I hope I can keep on updating regularly, but I can make no promise. Let's cross our fingers. The song I used in this chapter is "Darkening Sky" by Peter Bradley Adams.


	25. Chapter 25

"The doctor found a mineral and electrolyte disorder of the blood that weakened her heart, the way it happens with anorexia and bulimia. That's why they now believe that she was suffering from an eating disorder. Her tooth enamel was slightly corroded so their guess is actually bulimia," the words are said with a blank tone; it's strange that after walking centuries between mortal lives, so fragile and easily broken, Stefan can still not process the fact that Bonnie is dead.

Damon tries to tune his voice out but words still reach his brain. He would want nothing more than to not imagine her beautiful, soft body sliced open on a morgue table while her cold skin is losing its natural glow, and yet he has this morbid need to know what happened, in details. To know why one moment she was joking with him and the next her lifeless body was all that was left in his arms.

"Her heart was damaged when her body started rejecting black magic; that was what made her feel so often tired and aching, but at least they are pretty sure that she didn't feel any pain. She probably didn't even realize what was happening, she just... fell asleep."

Stefan is trying to find some consolation in the thought that she didn't suffer but Damon is not doing the same. Damon is not doing anything but drinking.

After they realized that there was nothing they could do for Bonnie he picked up a cd from the ground, dusted it with his hand and then picked his glass, which has not stayed empty for more than thirty seconds from the night before. Stefan had to take her body and bring it back to her house so that nobody would suspect they were involved in her death. He had to compel people to remember that she had lived there the whole time and that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, all the while trying to keep Elena from going crazy.

He had had no time to grieve her himself and yet he had held her small body, and tucked her under the blankets, stupidly trying to shield her from the chill.

It breaks his heart to think of the things she will never have, of the things they will never do together. He keeps asking himself if she knew that he thought of her as a kindred spirit; fighting the same battles he fights, loving the same people he loves. Cursed to be different from the rest of the world, forever ahead of everyone else and cut apart in an inevitable, perpetual solitude.

The last thing he told her had been something stupid about grocery shopping and he wishes he had told her something meaningful, even if he knows that there's nothing he could have said to make things better now.

Elena is fighting her pain by crying her eyes out and trying to be of any help to Bonnie's father to organize the funeral service. It's a way like another to react, and to stay by her side, encourage her to not surrender to the pain is the only thing he can do for both Elena and Bonnie.

With his brother is different.

"Stop talking," Damon says, trying to shush him waving his hand in the air as he remains sitting with precarious balance on a chair, "You're ruining my party."

Stefan ignores him and keeps on talking.

"The service is tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock. Elena will probably have to fake strong hysterics to cover the fact that she can't take part to it since she can't be exposed to daylight, but I don't think she will have much to fake," he says, knowing too well that the moment she won't have things like catering and funeral to think about, the realization of her friend's death will hit her fully and she will fall to pieces.

"No problem, if she's so eager to wear black and cry in public she can have my ring," his brother says putting down his glass to take off his ring before Stefan stops him.

"Don't," he says in a rush, "Keep it, I'll find another way."

He doubts it would work on anyone else, but that's not the point. He doesn't want to come back home from the funeral to find a heap of ashes instead of his brother. He's so drunk that he could just fall asleep under an open window, even if Stefan doubts that his death, right now, would be anything else but intentional.  
Damon is half stoned and his hand is badly missing his glass of bourbon so he doesn't insist with his offer. Elena can still have the ring if she takes it herself so that he doesn't need to stop drinking.

"You should stop drinking," Stefan says, "It's not like you can stay drunk for more then a minute anyway."

"Don't I know it?" he asks, for a second he sounds almost angry but the bitter note disappears as soon as it showed up "Maybe if you can shut the hell up the job will get easier."

Stefan nods as Damon keeps on ignoring him. He walks to the liquor cabinet, opens it and - calculating that it would take too long to take away his brother stock of alcohol - he just angles it letting the bottles crush on the parquet. His action results into a pool of amber liquid and broken glass.

"What the hell!" Damon stands up outraged but his brother doesn't move.

"I know you hate a messy floor so you better hurry and clean up before this place starts to smell like a blown up distillery."

The worst part, Damon thinks impulsively, it's not that the place will smell like bourbon, it's that it will smell a lot less like Bonnie.

"This is low," he says, as lucidity kicks in fast. Damn healing factor.

"No, what's really low is you... pretending you don't care," Stefan accuses him.

"Oh, please! Some pathetic human being... like I didn't see enough funerals in my life, or better... like I didn't _cause _them," Damon almost hisses in rage.

Stefan grins bitterly, "Pathetic human being, huh? I guess I'm wrong," he says, with a frustrated edge in his voice, "Then sit on the couch," he dares him, "Go into her room," he says, his voice as hard as stone, "Pack her clothes. Wash her sheets. Use her mug. Throw away her foam bath-"

"Can you stop?" Damon demands raising his voice and gripping Stefan green shirt at the neck with both hands.

"What does it matter? You don't care, do you?" his brother asks, waiting for a reaction, any at all, because he just lost his friend and he feels like he's about to lose his big brother too, "You don't care that she is dead. You don't care that you're never gonna see her again. No more aneurysms for you, right? No more moralizing. That's good! Aren't you happy? Can't you breathe better?"

"I can't breathe at all!" Damon screams in his face and then pushes him away, making him fall on the floor.

Stefan remains there and slowly gets to a sitting position, watching his brother shake with repressed emotions that will end up killing him from the inside if he doesn't let them out. But Damon just shakes and tries to breathe in.

"I-" he takes one hard breath "Elena is waiting for you," he says, before leaving him alone.

#

In his room Damon can finally expect to obtain a little privacy but as he lies on his bed and closes his eyes his hearing, on instinct, strains to catch her heartbeat in the next room. She probably didn't close well the shower's knob because he can hear a drop of water rhythmically hitting the ceramic plate and fabric brushing against something sharp. Must be the curtains, because she has this habit to leave the window ajar so the room is breezy.

Correction. She _had _this habit, he reminds himself. And his heart sinks a bit more.

He killed so many people that he lost count. After losing his mother and then Katherine he never cared enough for anyone else's loss. He loathed the perspective of Stefan's and Elena's death; he hated that they had that power over him but, at least, he was sure he was safe from anyone else. This knowledge - not counting one single, insignificant incident which left him eager to say aloud a very comforting lie - made him feel in control and powerful. This is why now; hatefully sober and aware he's not going to wake up from this nightmare anytime soon, he can't understand this pain affecting his whole body.

It's an atrocious disease that infected him in one instant. He feels a new kind of emptiness that makes him unstable. It's kind of like a CR.

Losing one's hearing leaves you physically unbalanced, unable to tell where your body is in relation to the gravity and the earth; it makes it difficult for the brain to make adjustments in posture of the trunk and limbs. The simple task of keeping balance on your own feet becomes difficult.

From the moment Bonnie's heartbeat stopped he's been unable to properly function. He became physically unbalanced, unable to feel gravity and earth. He cannot adjust to the world without her.

The only sound he longs for - that was supposed to fill the air around him - is gone.

Humans are stupid creatures, always doing stupid things, like dying, and he should know better than to count on them to stay sane, but he did. Bonnie made him fall into line with her stupid code, made him be conscious with her stupid attitude; she made him worried with her stupid obstinacy, made him burn with her stupid sensuality, made him endeared with her stupid fragility, made him care with her stupid strength. She made him _human _ and _himself_; and then she's gone and made him _die _with every passing second.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. _

He's stupid too, isn't he? He was such an idiot; he was supposed to be safe. He thought he was.

He remembers the pain of losing Katherine; he remembers and this is nothing like that.

He worshiped the ground Katherine walked upon and losing her had been like losing a goddess. She was still superior and unreachable to him, even though he could carnally possess her, and it was fine. Adoring her was such a pleasure, such a pain. Their bond, for how twisted it could be, was the one between master and pet. He had been fighting for her for centuries so that he could offer himself at the altar of her deceitful beauty, ready and eager to live a poisoned, sweet lie for the rest of eternity.

Bonnie was a witch and a human being and yet she was his equal more than anyone else in the world. The bond they shared had come from instinct, but even from days spent biting each other's heads off, giving hell to each other, helping out and pushing away and then pushing back again and digging their places into each other's souls until she was all of it, and now she had left him with this _hole. _And he does not know how it is possible to miss someone so badly that your bones feel hollow and whatever in you was still alive just stopped _waiting; _for things to make sense, for the things you were yearning for. Stopped, just like that.

There's this tiny part of him that wants to be there for Elena, wants to lash out at Caroline, take it out on Stefan, hate Jeremy, insult Matt, kill Klaus - again. But the rest of him just doesn't care about anything. All his body does right now is hurt with her absence. All he can do right now is yearn for Bonnie.

#

"You can stop looking at me like some scared puppy," Damon says as Stefan waits on the doorstep.

Stefan is relieved to see that his brother is sober and has stopped trying to make him buy that he's indifferent to Bonnie's death, but he's still not having any kind of real reaction. Going to the funeral would let him elaborate her death but he won't. His blind obstinacy makes him feel closer to him, because he suspects that he cannot accept Bonnie's death the same way he himself would not be able to accept Elena's.

The idea that Bonnie was that for his brother - that kind of love - scares Stefan like nothing else. Because what happens once Damon realizes that too? Once he's able to call that feeling by name? What then?

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"One hundred percent," he says "Give my sympathy to her outstanding parents, please."

Damon thinks that, if he steps anywhere near her - always absent - parents, he's going to snap their necks before he can even think about it. But this is not the reason why he won't go. He's just not going to admit she's gone forever because she can't. She can't.

He's not a lucidity champion right now. He has not been sleeping for three days, he's been drunk for almost fourteen hours straight and _you won't keep me forever. Tick, tock. She just fell asleep. Tick, tock. Can't you breathe better?_

"After the funeral we'll go to her house," Stefan says.

"Lovely plan," Damon comments casually, "And who's going to be in charge, playing the gracious host? Daddy dearest?"

"Elena and Caroline have been helping," he says as he sees his brother grinning with angry bitterness, "They had to use the food brought for her birthday party for her funeral instead."

Right. They're hosting her funeral on the day of her eighteen birthday.

"So very convenient of my little bird to die when everything was already set. Isn't she precious?" he keeps on talking hoping Stefan won't notice he didn't use the past tense "Wouldn't want to bother anyone with her departure," he says; pain is all he can manage to feel right now, because he has no recognition of the form or shape of any other emotion possesses. He can't remember them. And so pain be it.

"Maybe you could come by," his brother suggests, "Stay just a few minutes."

"Formal occasions are too tiring and I don't have a tie," he answers, with irony lost in his voice, pushing his fists into his pockets. Stefan knows that this is the last brick of the wall Damon has built around himself and so he knows that he must not push him further or he's just going to push him away. He'll have to be the one facing this for both of them.

It's almost a relief to hear the door closing because now Stefan looks at him like he's waiting for a catastrophe to happen any moment, and isn't Saint Stefan always right?

The boardinghouse is a symphony of Bonnie; everything smells like her, and it's like she's having fun at his expenses, playing hide and seek. She calls out to him with her honey scent and when he looks she's never there.

Damon starts picking up the books she had read. A few novels she already knew or was curious about, and more that Stefan has suggested her. The last one is a collection of poetries and, as he pulls at the ribbon bookmarking the page, he finds himself facing a page yellowed with time and smelling like vanilla and Bonnie.

"Aren't you a tease?" he whispers with a bitter smile as he let his finger run through the printed black letters.

"_I don't want you to go away, pain, last form of love. I feel myself living when you hurt me. Not in you, nor here, far beyond: on earth, during the year where you are from, in the love with her and everything that was. In that overwhelmed reality that deny itself and obstinately affirms that it never has existed, that it was nothing much then my pretext to live."_

But as his eyes travel along the page and words reach his brain his voice protests way too weakly.

"I think you're overestimating yourself, Judgy," he says, in a feeble defense as his own heart trembles like a cards castle that's about to fall down.

_"If you would not remain to me, pain, unanswerable, I could believe it; but you remain to me."_

His hard expression falters, the emptiness of the house whispers with her voice _I'm picking you _and he's happy and he's devastated, as a feeling of recognition makes him lightheaded.

_"The truth that assures me that nothing was lie. And until I will be able to feel you, you'll be for me, pain, the proof of another life where you did not hurt me. The great proof, far away, that she existed, that she exists, that she loved me, yes, that I'm still loving her."_

For someone who, in his life, did every single thing in the name of love, or better, the starved need for it, he did not know the first thing about it.

#

**Note:** The poem is "_No quiero que te vayas_" (I don't want you to go away) by Pedro Salinas. I had to translate it myself since I couldn't find the english version, so I hope I got it right.


	26. Chapter 26

There are things, he knows, he can't say. Not now. Not anymore. There are words which sound can kill a man when there's no one to hear them out, to hold them still, because they come back like a boomerang and hit where it hurts the most. Some place in the middle of his chest, at the bottom of his soul, wherever she still is.

The practical, sensible thing to do is to swallow them and pretend.

Damon has a poker face of which he is quite proud. He can pretend with anyone, but when the first actor is even his own audience it gets tricky. You swallow those insignificant, tiny three words and they swell inside until your heart is crushed and your throat is tight and your vocal cords breaks and everything burns with the power of those words.

He can't admit to himself that he was that stupid, that blind. He can't admit that his heart was elsewhere instead of with the girl that always smelled like vervain and all of his mistakes, and that he never knew 'til now that it is too late.

He is timeless and he never knew what _too late _really meant until now. Now those three tiny words mock him endlessly in whispers and murmurs and the shopping list attached on the fridge watches him from the VIP stand.

He can't say _goodbye _either.

If he visits her gravestone or her empty room he will have to, eventually.

If he holds Elena back, now that she's holding on to him like he's going to disappear at any moment, he will have to, and he can't. So he pats his hand in the middle of her back and fake a peaceful, resigned expression as Stefan watches the scene from the doorstep, with arms crossed on his chest and - Damon knows without looking - an unimpressed look on his face.

"I miss her so much," she says between tears. A vampire has no need for air but she is sobbing on his shoulder so violently like she can faint from lack of oxygen and he thinks about how it can be possible, mechanically speaking.

But she should look at the bright side. Wouldn't she like to pass out and take a breath from all this crying?

On his part, he would like a break from all the thinking, but he's left with little less than a bottle of bourbon and a weeping vampire damping his shirt and he can't even sleep anymore.

"I know," he says, blank, hoping she will stop crying or talking, or possibly both, but she doesn't.

"I'm so sorry I didn't think of you, but when I saw her- I- it's just-" he's not sorry at all, he'd like to tell her; in fact he would be very glad if she would go back to cry her loss on his brother's shoulder, but she keeps on talking and after all it's a noise like another that will cover up all that mocking in his head.

"I thought everything was going to be alright and now she's gone."

How strange it is that Elena - his beloved Elena - is in his arms and he does not really care. He had always thought that as long as she was alive, as long as he could be near her everything would have been alright. He had been yearning for her touch for so long, believing it to be a healing to all of his wounds, all of his scars, and now she's no more than a dead weight hanging on his shoulders.

"There, there," he says apathetically, knowing this is the pause where he's supposed to tell her something meaningful and comforting, and yet he's unable to find anything better to say. And then he sees her for a moment. His little bird, sitting on the sofa, coughing on his favorite bourbon. "_There, there_," and she slaps his hand away making him laugh. The image is so vivid that for a moment he forgets that she's gone and the ghost of a smile shows up on his face at the memory, and then disappears as soon as it appeared.

Elena holds on his shoulders with her small hands, her grip unnaturally strong, and she puts space between them to fix her doe eyes on him. Damon would like to tell her to stop looking into his eyes like she wants to find his soul; he doesn't know where it's gone hiding and he doesn't want to give her yet another reason to cry on.

Her eyes fall on her shoes as she bows her head and her grip loosens up slowly.

When Elena looks back at him again her eyes have stopped watering, but her lashes tremble and her sadness is so composed that it gets him, somehow. Her voice is weak, it sounds like a glass ready to break, "Damon..."

Her unblinking eyes stare at him like suddenly she _knows_ what he _won't._

"Yes, that's my name," he says, looking like he's trying to amuse her but she just keeps on staring at him with eyes wide open.

Her hands fall from his shoulders and she says again "I'm so sorry," but it seems like she's sorry for something else this time, and he can't stand the way she looks at him.

"I got it the first time, and as much as I'd like to stay here and watch the rerun I think my little brother is the best man for the job. His shirt is dry, anyway," he says walking around her, "I'll go out while you stop the Flood," he tells his brother passing him by.

And she comes back again, slightly smelling like rain, looking small and seductive inside her oversize, worn out Duke sweater. _Flood aside, you went pretty well. _His answer to that isn't that funny but she smiles and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and he wants to touch them so badly that he can hardly concentrate.

He thinks about stupid things, like what happens when someone eats strawberries even if they are allergic to them. And he walks, until he finds himself facing the open gates of the cemetery. He doesn't enter. He never does even if he takes the same walk every day, until, on the fourth one, he hears a familiar voice speaking aloud.

"You were the strongest of us all, and now everything's crazy without you," he says, "Elena and Caroline miss you so much. Almost as much as I do." Oh, isn't he adorable to tell her something so sweet after he betrayed her with ectoplasm? He deserves to be hugged so tight that it'll make him turn blue in the face.

But first things first.

It takes Damon just a moment to find Jeremy, "To each their kink. It seems that ghosts do it for you" he says; his voice makes the boy turns around, and he grabs him by his shirt to lift him easily from the ground until his feet kick the air.

"Sorry to ruin your Demi Moore moment," he says with a canine smile, "Me and her need to talk and you'll pass the message along," he says, turning his head around like he can see her too.

"What?" Jeremy can hardly breathe, let alone follow his colorful speech, "Elena is not here," he says trying to pull at Damon's wrist to make him loosen up his hold.

"Not her," he says gritting his teeth, "I heard you," he clarifies, sounding almost like he's accusing him of something, "Tell Bonnie that she needs to tell me how to bring her back."

The initial confusion on Jeremy's face disappears as Damon lets him go.

"Tell her _now._"

The boy rubs his neck, answering wary "She's not here."

"Bullshit!" Damon says, almost hissing, "I told you I heard you talking to her, so Ghost-Whisper-her that she needs to come back!"

"That's not what I was doing," Jeremy tries to explain but Damon cuts him short. His features revived by eagerness and sarcasm.

"I don't care how you un-cool kids call it. You do that and I'll let you live enough to see the end of your handmade moments."

"Get it into your thick skull," Jeremy says again, "I was not talking to her. Bonnie is not here. I was doing what any sane person would do. I was mourning her."

Jeremy is angry. Angry that she's gone, angry that he must explain himself to him of all people, angry that Damon has the nerve to be so unstable because the witch he tried to kill has dared to die without his involvement.

"Why do you want her to come back so badly? Are you upset that you didn't get to kill her yourself?" he asks, "That must be such a bugger for you. I mean, after Sheila and Abby, I see why you'd want to finish the job with the last Bennett!"

Hate burns in his eyes as Damon pushes him to the ground and presses his forearm down on his neck.

"Isn't it convenient that ring of yours? Huh?" he asks, as his black eyes stare down on him and his canine come out, "I wonder if it would work all the same if I tore you to shreds."

"Wanna try?" he asks back, desperate for air but trying to not show his fear. It's hard to do when Damon looks so bloodthirsty and out of control.

_What about Jeremy? _She's sitting on the sofa, looking at him like she's trying to not hope for anything and he wants to erase the insignificant boy from her mind.

"I'm not going to bother with you," he decides, standing and brushes off dust from his shirt looking detached and bored, "Being useless should be punishment enough."

He catches the marble of her gravestone. Her framed picture smiles at him and he needs to look away before his walls crumble down.

Jeremy gets up and watches him turn his back and walk away like there's something that slows down his steps, some sort of anchor closed around his ankles that keep his body - or his soul - at the bottom of the ocean. It occurs to him that someone else might miss Bonnie more than he does.

She was wonderful like that, he thinks. And what is she now, the anchor or the ocean?

Maybe she's both.

#

"How was the funeral?" he asks, suddenly appearing in the kitchen as Elena and Stefan sit at the table.

His brother holds her hand keeping it on his knee, and they look like they're letting each other be all the known world, outside of which nothing else exist. Damon really has no taste for molasses.

Elena blinks and looks at Stefan before answering; it's been a week already since it happened and he never showed any interest in discussing it before.

"A lot of people came," she says "Everyone was really touched."

"So, you were there," he says, like he's trying to get somewhere. He has a haunting look about himself that makes her feel tense. She doesn't believe he would ever do anything to hurt her intentionally but she can't help but feel nervous.

"Of course I was, she was my best friend."

"What are you trying to get at Damon?" his brother asks, cutting in. He knows him too well to be misled.

"I just realized your girlfriend is wearing a very pretty ring," he answers, eying her white gold ring with a pink stone, "And since the sun has not set yet and she's here in all her un-dead glory, I must gather that you found yourself a new magical mini-market," the bitterness in his face doesn't show, yet he hates the idea that they could replace her, even if they really had no other choice, even if in that department alone.

"Abby came for the funeral."

She remembers her mask of pain behind the big glasses as she mourns her daughter from afar so that her husband would not see her. Her, usually firm, posture curved by the weight of all the things she never got to say to Bonnie, of all the years and the birthdays and the recitals and the dances she missed out.

"She was quite worn but managed to help us all the same," Elena explains.

"Oh, I bet. You should expect that from someone with such a maternal instinct," he says, his voice clearly ironic, "But she can't do magic anymore, so..." he says and Stefan looks at him wary.

"I think it's my duty to bring her my condolences, in person," Damon adds, sounding way too reasonable for Stefan to not worry.

"I don't think there's any necessity," he says, standing up like he's ready to fight him.

"Little brother, how rude of you," Damon scolds him with a grin, "Would you really deny some comfort to a mourning mother?"

"I don't know what you have in mind," Stefan says, not buying his sudden sympathy for a second, "But whatever it is I can tell it's nothing good."

"And we all know what family approval means to me," he replies flat.

"Guys, please," Elena cuts in trying to be the voice of the reason, "you need to stop fighting. Haven't we lost enough already?"

Stefan is silent as Damon fixes his eyes on her. His blue eyes look distant and yet melancholic as he answers her.

"That's the point."

It's his brother who hears what's hidden behind those few words. Damon has nothing else to lose. Stefan is hurt but he can understand, because he would feel the same if it was Elena instead of Bonnie and so he watches him turn his back on them and walk away.

"What do you think he has in mind?" Elena asks him, circling his waist with her arms and resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Stefan does not answers, just kisses her forehead hoping for the better.

#

Abby is already gone and so is Jamie. Now that he's got no one to irritate he can even say his name right, but the boy remains useless, and now is nowhere to be found, and so any link he could have with the witch is lost.

Stefan doesn't need to ask when he sees his brother coming back home late that night. He decides to not push the matter, not make any question and leave him to rest so they can face the subject in the morning. Damon hadn't had any sleep in over a week now and he's hoping that this can be the right night.

When he opens his eyes in the morning and snap into a sitting position the feeling in his stomach is so real that seems almost made of concrete. He gets up immediately and rushes to Damon's bedroom, then downstairs and in the garage. His 1969 blue Chevy Camaro Convertible is missing and so is a bag of clothes.

All Stefan can think about is that he should have known.

When he tells Elena she stays frozen on the spot for five seconds and then rushes into his arms. He's very worried about Damon but he cannot say it out loud. It's so strange the things that can scare you. He lived long enough without his big brother; he's been haunted by his hate, and both his absence and his presence for more than a century, and this is the first time that he makes him truly frightened.

Elena holds him more often than usual, and when, two weeks later past by, he lets himself wonder if it's his brother's arms she's longing for. She tells him "I know you're worried about him but I'm sure he'll come back."

It's almost like she could read his mind and he feels a bit more at ease.

"Do you miss him?" he asks her once. She sighs and admits with a hint of guilt, "Not as much as I'd miss you."

Stefan waits patiently for his brother to come back, because - after all - right now he's all he's got, and once he's back he'll be there for him any way he needs to.

He visits Bonnie's gravestone every night; hers is the only one always covered in fresh flowers. During the day he could easily meet her father and he doesn't want to intrude in his pain. Above all, he can do nothing about his guilt.

Elena always visits her after school. Now that Caroline is gone again - trying to find the right words to say, the right thing to do to help Tyler win Klaus over - she still confides her secrets to Bonnie and he doesn't want to take away this last shred of bond she managed to find with her best friend.

Sometimes Jeremy goes there before the sunset, so he can watch it with her. Matt is the early morning kind of guy and he jogs to her before school.

So Stefan is left with night hours, and it is fine with him. It's peaceful and, in the night, he can hear every sound of the city. He doesn't really know if he visits her because he misses her or because he expects it to be the place when he'll find Damon again; he stops wondering after the first week.

A month later he's so tuned to the sounds that it doesn't matter what time of the day it is; he can hear the batting of wings of any kind of bird to the point that he can distinguish them without even having to raise his eyes to the sky.

When he hears a crow's cry it's four in the morning and it is fifty-one days since the last time he saw his brother, fifty-nine since Bonnie's funeral, sixty-one since her death.

He gets up from his bed, gently untangling himself from a sleeping Elena, and leaves the house walking to the cemetery. He waits longer then he needs to, just to make sure that his mind is not playing tricks on him.

"Where did you go?" he asks as his brother piles up another shovelful of earth to the side.

Damon leaves the shovel half into the ground as he turns his head over his shoulder to grin at him.

"I went to buy a pack of cigarettes," he says.

Stefan is not going to argue with him about his whereabouts in the past month and a half, but he's not going to be gracious about him disinterring Bonnie's corpse. He rushes to take away the shovel from his hands and he must push him down in the process.

"This is not a game of football," Damon tells him, "If you force me to come and get it I won't go easy on you, little brother."

Stefan can see his eyes shine with a serious intensity. The air is quite cold at the end of September but if he could feel any chill at all it would be because of Damon's eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Gardening," the other says as he gets up, with the grin he always uses to scorn him, and yet Stefan is not really sure he's mocking anyone but himself.

He promised himself to do anything to keep his brother once he found him again, but to let him humor himself with Bonnie is not an option.

"I know you're hurt but I'm not letting you disrespect her," he says, grave.

"That's not what I'm trying to do, and you should know better," he says, almost accusingly.

Yes, Stefan should know. He does know, doesn't he?

"You found a way to bring her back."

"Bingo! The doll goes to the vampire with the brooding forehead."

"How?" he asks, very tempted to believe they really got a shot at having Bonnie again but reminding himself that he's the only lucid one and he must remain so. When or if Damon's hope crumbles down he must be ready to pick up the pieces and so his hope must be kept at bay.

"Oh, you know how it works," he shrugs "a semi-consenting ex witch here, an abracadabra there, _et voilà," _he says waving his hand in the air like he's holding a magic wand, "it's easier than you think".

"I don't really like the semi-consenting part."

"So picky," Damon grimaces, "Now give me back the shovel."

"Forget it."

Damon attacks him immediately but Stefan dodges him. Once, then twice.

"I said to give me the shovel," he repeats, with a threatening voice.

"There's no need to," Stefan replies calmly, "I'm digging myself."

His brother watches him cocking his head to the side. There's the same sharpness of the crow in his movements.

"You go, I'll take care of Bonnie and meet you in an hour wherever you need me to," Stefan explains.

"And I should trust that my righteous brother will disinter his friend's corpse because I said so?" he asks, sarcastic.

"No," he replies simply, "You should trust that your righteous brother will disinter his friend's corpse because you love her."

That's what makes Damon falter in the end. The tiny words always mocking him just put them out there by his little brother. Damon blinks taking that sentence the way he would do with a punch.

"It's been more than a month now," and her body must be decomposing faster because of what black magic did to her and he doesn't want his brother to see the girl he loves like that; if whatever plan Damon set up to bring her back fails, he doesn't want that to be the last image he'll ever have of her, "You don't need to see her."

"The exercise will do you good," Damon says after a few seconds of stunned silence.

Stefan is his brother and he can hear what's hidden behind those few words, that's why his answer is "You're welcome."


	27. Chapter 27

His steps are light but the old wood stairs slightly creak, giving away his presence. There's hardly any light inside the building, and he sees the flame of a candle burning in a corner of the basement.

"Bennetts?" he calls their last name looking around to catch both silhouettes approaching him, "I know that the waiting amplifies the pleasure, but let's not overdo it, shall we?". Being inside an abandoned house with two women would usually be fun, he thinks, what a shame he just turned monogamous.

"What do you want?" Abby asks taking one step in his direction and revealing herself.

Damon fakes a smile, "So nice of you to come," he says looking at both the women, "Did you have a nice trip?"

Lucy grins sarcastically, with the confident attitude gained from her power "Salvatore," she just addresses him with a hint of curiosity.

"The less I hear from you the better I am, so let's cut the crap, shall we?" Abby says, crossing her arms under her breast, "What it is that my daughter left unfinished?"

She can't even look at him as she refers to Bonnie and he grins at her clear guilt. That's good, he thinks, she should live all of her eternity crushed by remorse.

"You mean, aside from her own life?" he asks, making her turn. Her sharp eyes try to pin him down but Abby doesn't have that kind of power over Damon.

"You followed me all over the country and asked me to come back with Lucy for a reason, you better tell me what it is before I remember what you did to me and decide that I have no intention to help you and your friends."

"You came here for Bonnie," he simply says.

"Yes, I know I did. She would want me to help Elena and Caroline and that's why we're here!" she spits, pointing her index towards the ground like she's putting a period at the end of a line.

"No," he says slowly, almost spelling it out, "I meant, you're here to bring Bonnie back."

She looks incredulous; her mouth almost hangs open as she openly stares at him.

"That's not what you told me," she says looking at Damon and then at Lucy, and back again

"I lied. Shame on me."

"You're out of your mind," it's all the youngest Bennett says.

"That's a common thought," he replies with a condescending smile, shrugging.

"I can't do that," the witch replies.

"I'm sure you underestimate yourself. I mean, if you're half as good as your cousin then you can do this," he says, eyes shining, "And you will."

Abby shakes her head, looking at him.

"If she died for a magical cause the power of the witches would have had a chance to save her, but she died for a natural cause and I can't change that. Even if I did, she could do it again," she says, clearly talking about Bonnie's imaginary problems with bulimia, "She was just a teen-age girl and she wasn't strong enough for this kind of life. I don't want to disturb her peace now that she has found it."

"What you don't want to do is look in the eyes of the daughter you abandoned and think 'this is all my fault', because you're the one who's not strong enough," his voice is so cold and stark that it could cut her in half.

"How can you-"

"But on a more pleasant note, Bonnie did die for a magical cause. She had become a black magic addict and that stuff weakened her heart so much that... well, you know the drill, I suppose," he says waving his hand in the air, like he's talking about some trivial thing.

"Even so the witches' powers would have balanced the effects on her body," she says, reasoning aloud, "As a witch Bonnie's body was equipped to endure power and it would have made her able to survive it. Even if it wouldn't keep her heart pure, it would have at least saved her life."

Damon face is a blank mask.

"I found a way to disable her powers."

"You what?" she explodes "For how long?"

"A bit more than two months," he says watching her pass her hands through her hair.

"You killed my daughter," she whispers, with eyes wide open on a point on the dusty wall.

"Funny that you remember her to be your daughter only now," he says, sarcasm dripping from every word, "You didn't even know her!" He accuses her, "Do you know how she used to take her coffee? Do you know her worse fear or what it was that kept her awake at night? Now that she's gone is there any fucking difference in your goddamn life?" he's beyond angry at this point, choking on longing and guilt, "Because there is in mine and I'm not going to stay put as you paint yourself as the pitiful mommy!" he says, gritting his teeth "Black magic abused her. It was making her become someone else and I couldn't let it happen. So if you want to blame me, then suit yourself, but I'm bringing her back and you're going to do your part for once in your miserable life. I swear."

His breath is hard and heavy as he keeps his rage at bay. Abby stands looking proud and stony but he knows she dwelling with her remorse and he doesn't want to ruin the blissful moment for her. They just stare at each other, while Lucy stays still, like a movement could make it all fall down, and that's when Stefan clears his throat to signal his presence.

Damon and Abby turn to him, to see him standing at the feet of the stairs with a body bag in his arms.

"We're here," he says, slowly walking ahead and placing Bonnie's body in the middle of the room. _Rigor mortis_ has long disappeared and her muscle are decomposing, making her body lighter and a lot more fragile, this is why even if it's an easy task for him to carry her, Stefan is still very careful and delicate. He can remember her face now hidden by the cadaver pouch and he has the strange urge to caress her deteriorated cheek and tell her that he's sorry and promise that everything will be alright, even if he has no way to know that.

He gave in to his brother way too easily, he knows, but Damon is alive and this means something to him, while Bonnie is not there anymore and whatever they do now it can't hurt her.

"My baby..." Abby murmurs, kneeling by her side and reaching to the zipper to push it down, but Stefan's hand on hers stops her. He looks at her and shakes his head. It takes Abby a few seconds to let it go.

She stands and turns her back on them sharing a look with Lucy; the girl takes her grimoire inside an old bag left in a corner of the room and they both remain with their back turned. Both Salvatore can guess Abby's hand brushing her cheek to take away a tear but they don't say a word.

"We can give it a try," Lucy says.

"See? This is the right attitude!" Damon piques in, and she turns her head over her shoulder to give him a killing look.

"But I don't know what it can come out of it."

"What do you mean?" Stefan asks.

"That she's been tainted by black magic and if it's still in her body it could influence my magic. This not counting that the witches might have other plans for her. They could keep her with them or who knows what else. I don't have the power to bring her back myself. No one has it. We better hope they're feeling magnanimous."

"What if there's still some black magic in her body?"

"We can do something about the functions of her body, but I don't know anything about her soul. I'm calling on a power that's not my own, so it has a will I cannot bend to my wishes."

"You mean we could just shoot a remake of _Pet Sematary_?" Damon asks, trying to resort to humor to not let his hopes crumble "She could come back as some kind of zombie?"

"That's exactly what we're saying," Abby says, "She could become someone else. Will you let that happen to her?" she asks, using his own words against him, "Do you really want to risk this? Rob every one of the beautiful memory of her just because you need a magical handyman?"

"That's not why I need her back," he says. Abby's lashes tremble and she looks into his eyes and wonders how she could miss it. How she could be so blind to his feelings - well, she never thought he really had any in the first place, she supposes. How strange that her own daughter could somehow tame the heart of the undisciplined guardian of their bloodline.

Lucy looks at him fashinated, finding a little pride at thinking that a Bennett did this to him; the wildest Salvatore, the impenitent playboy, the one who succeeded in freeing himself from Katherine's influence after a few lifetimes under her malice. She can even detect a light taste of envy in her mouth, watching this handsome creature, so full of devotion, ready to challenge black magic and move war against a host of witches just to bring back her little cousin.

"Will you be able to do what you have to do in case what we bring back is not Bonnie?" Abby asks grave, and Stefan turns his eyes of his brother waiting for his answer.

"If it comes to that, I will make the right choice," he promises.

Concentrating to call all that power takes time and Abby stays sitting on the ground, with crossed legs, mirroring Lucy's position; the open book lays on the ground next the body bag; the youngest Bennett chants for at least half an hour and Abby's eyes do not move from her face. Damon and Stefan can't do much but stare.

Damon has been waiting, and not sleeping, from the moment Bonnie died. Abby will do what she has to, he think, and she will bring Bonnie back and they will take from the point where they left. He will remember this month and half as an unbearably long day in which she's been sleeping. To live the rest of her life with him will make her consume a lot of energy, after all. She needed her rest, didn't she?

He will have to rest too, _eventually_. Once he has had enough of her to last for a few years he will fall asleep into a bed worn by their constant making love, with Bonnie in his arms, and he will wake up to find her still there. Yes, that's a great plan. He can do that. He could manage to waste a few hours sleeping if he can wake up to her smile. With all the things he will do to her. He will make sure she has many, many reason to smile.

Sleeping when Bonnie was not there meant to accept that another day had passed without her. It meant to let her go as Damon fell into oblivion, because vampires don't dream and so he had no chance to find her into his sleep either.

It had been one long, cold, sleepless night since she went away and now she's coming back.

He cannot consider the option of her coming back into some other form then her stubborn, passionate, generous self. He cannot think of having to kill her himself. He wants to bask into this thing that's so similar to joy, and not think about being separated from her again.

Lucy is half into her chanting when he realizes what's happening and he holds his breath even if he has no need to breathe in the first place. The ground shakes as her voice becomes harder and threatens to break. Power bends her backwards, the plastic of the body bag enlarges like a balloon filled with air and then loses its volume like what's inside got crushed to the ground.

"What's happening?" Damon asks, but his voice comes out distort, as Stefan's voice calling out to him.

Damon sees Abby falling on her back and the ground swallow her, but he's not certain because everything is blurry in front of him and he can taste bourbon on his wet lips and smell fear and guilt over a sweet scent. There's a ticking of a clock in the background, like the one they have in the reception room of the boarding house.

He moves to keep his ground as everything blurs and crumbles and he walks toward the only clear sound he can hear; an erratic heartbeat. His hands find a door and go down to find the knob and turn it. When he opens the door he finds himself staring into a pair reddened green eyes.

Bonnie has dark shadows under her eyes and she is slightly trembling. He can't say a word as he smell her honey foam bath, and guilt and fear she has no reason to feel. He's so madly happy to see her alive, standing in front of him on the front door of the boarding house that he can feel his heart bursting in his chest, like it's swelled so much that his body wasn't able to contain it anymore.

He smiles, taking a step, ready to hold her and bury his face in the hollow of her neck and promise her anything she will ask him but she doesn't give him time to do any of that before making one blood vessel explode, and then another, and another.

He cries out in surprise and pain but she just stands there, keeping her mind on the task of making him suffer. After almost two months without her she will have to come up with something better than this.

"Bonnie!" he screams again and this time she snaps out of her state.

Damon falls on his knees, looking up at her, thinking that whatever Abby did it backfired and Bonnie came back just to torture him with her beauty and the ghost of what she once was, to force him to kill her, again. But then she talks, out of breath, and a cold realization creeps into his bones.

"I have every right to hate you and leave your sorry ass to die in the most painful way a human mind can conceive" she says, and unlike the first time around he can't even bring himself to try and utter a word, "You've been killing and torturing people for the most part of your miserable life and you deserve everything that's coming to you!"

He knows this speech by heart. The first days after that night he kept reliving that moment over and over until he could even count the breaths she took between a word and another. And now he watches in fascination her anger, her beauty, and her life.

"I _can_ hate you!" she screams, and he's helpless against her frustration.

"Everything I had, you took it away from me!" she says, trembling from head to toe "The moment you came to Mystic Falls my life became a living hell!" she accused, even if the rational part of her knew it wasn't entirely true "You killed the only family member I had that recognized I was alive and cared about me! You made a vampire out of my mother! She was nothing more than collateral damage and you expected me to accept it because you decided so."

He doesn't know what to do so he says his line like a consumed actor.

"It was for-"

"Elena, I know!" she screams into his face "I know! And every day I have to choose between her life and someone else's. Between her life and mine, and I hate to care so little about mine! I should matter too but I don't. But why did you bring my mom into this? Why? Why did you have to snatch it away from me just when I was so close? I just wanted it for a while. I just- I just-." Damon struggles to keep himself from saying that he does care, that there's nothing that matters more than her, and that he's sorry for pain caused to her. "She was still my mother... there was something left for me after all..." she adds with a weak voice, and he realizes their time it coming to an end, and she's going to leave him again.

_Hey stranger, when may I call you my own?__  
__I know I don't know you, but there's somewhere I've seen you before__  
__Whatever your name is, whatever you do__  
__There's nothing between us I'm willing to loose_

She shakes her head and then turns to leave the Salvatore's patio, but Damon walks after her, like his mind cannot conceive to lose sight of her now, to stop feeling her presence now that she's back. Even like this, even now that she hates him with all of her passion, even now that he's the only one between them to love at all.

"Bonnie, wait," he calls out to her, barely brushing her elbows with his fingertips, but she ignores him. A few feet from her car her legs go out from under her and she falls into oblivion faster than she does into his arms.

_Now I'm drifting out over deep oceans__  
__And the tide won't take me back in__  
__And these desperate nights I'll call you again and again_

He looks at her unconscious form in his arms, head lolling. He yearns to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, but he can't. She hates him and wants nothing to do with him, and he can't force her to feel otherwise. Not now. So he keeps her up against his chest, making sure her head rests against his shoulder, and he walks towards the open door of his mansion. It's so very painful, and yet so good to feel her breath at the base of his neck. Her steady heartbeat against his chest it's the echo of a distant memory, and the sky is about to turn coral above them.

_Hey stranger, _

_when may I call you my own?_

_#_

**Note: **The song I used in this chapter is "Between us" by Peter Bradley Adams. This said, I am not pleased to let you know that my muse has run away, if you find her please send her back to me._  
_


	28. Chapter 28

Damon moves very slowly, even slower than the first time. The longer he takes to reach his bedroom the longer he will have her in his arms. _Alive_ in his arms, unlike the last time. Her skin is warm against his hands, her breath is regular at the base of his throat. He can inhale her honey scent and assure himself that she is there again.

When he lays Bonnie down between the sheets of his bed, brushing away her hair from her forehead, he gets down on his heels and grips the edge of the bed, so that his hands will not touch her on their own volition. It's strange what draws his attention: the seam of her long eyelashes which are naturally curvy, her hairline shaped into a heart adorning her forehead, and her practical short nails.

He feels both triumphant and restless, crushed with the need to touch her, to reassure himself that she's there with him, that she's not going away, ever again.

When his cellphone rings Damon answers in a rush so that Bonnie won't wake up, leaving her side to not disturb her sleep. Even being a few steps away from her is a painful task right now.

"What?" he asks. Right now he has a little hope. Maybe he's wrong about this; there was no call the first time it happened. Maybe Bonnie's just confused after coming back from the other side, and yet he should not be home because he was at the witches' house just a few minutes ago.

"Did you notice?" Stefan asks, and Damon grimaces looking at the girl on his bed.

"What? That lately the price of petrol has raised or that we are fucking back in time?" he asks, passing a hand in his hair.

"Oh, so you noticed about the petrol's price," the other one says trying to lighten up the moment, "Listen, I'm coming home, okay? And we'll find a way to put things right and keep Bonnie safe,"

"She's here right now," Damon says, and even if circumstances are not the best he can't help but curve his mouth into the ghost of a smile. She's here now, and for a little bit, everything is right in the world.

"That's good, that's good," Stefan say, encouragingly, "We'll fix this."

"Yeah. One way or another," Damon replies, hanging up.

This time he doesn't need to feed himself an excuse to stay in the room with her; if he gets rid of a glass filled with blood and lights the fire under the fireplace, it's only so that she'll be more comfortable. Bonnie deserves some good treatment as a reward for not being dead, he thinks with a grin.

Part of him can't wait for her to wake up and speak again; for her to be angry at him, for whatever reason, so that all of her passion will be focused on him; for her to have those beautiful eyes open and alive. The other part needs to enjoy this moment of quiet, to absorb slowly the fact that she is there, that he's got another chance at this. That she hates his guts once again.

When Stefan arrives Damon doesn't move from his chair; he listens to his rushed steps up the stairs and his abrupt stop at his door. His little brother knows, or at least can imagine, how much he needs this time with her and Damon can hear him walk back to the floor below without intruding.

Damon's eyes never blink, as they fix themselves on her, like he's still scared that she could disappear any moment. He watches intently her chest rising and falling with each breath, her mouth slightly open but not enough to guess the white of her teeth. The scent of her and her steady heartbeat call out to him. The temptation is overwelming and needs to get closer to her, even if just a little bit, so Damon lays down on the other side of the bed and let his fingertips brush the fabric of her sweater at her elbow, feeling the warmth of her body through it.

He remembers when Bonnie told him she felt alone and left behind as everyone else went on with their life without her, and he thinks she should know that there's nothing after her; that he went nowhere, he just went crazy. Damon remembers her screaming that she never matters, he remembers himself thinking so many times that only Elena did, and it's so unsettling and so natural to know that Bonnie does matter, more than anything; that compared to her nothing else ever mattered before and nothing will exist after her.

"I know that's a first for you, Judgy," he whispers, "But you were wrong, you know," he adds with a melancholic light in his eyes, "I'm gonna keep you forever."

#

When he hears the slight change in her breathing rhythm he realizes she's about to wake up and he closes his eyes faking to be asleep himself. He can see her movements in his head as she turns in the last vestiges of her sleep, breathing in with a low, lazy moan. The sharp, sudden breath she takes signals him that she just realized where she is, and who's lying beside her, and he resists the urge to grin.

The pressure on the mattress as Bonnie moves carefully to avoid the walk of shame is so very light that she could have succeeded; In another moment, with another man. But there will be no other man for her, so she better getting used to the fact that she cannot avoid this.

When Damon opens his eyes her back is turned to him, as she places her bare feet on the floor.

"What?" he asks, making her jump, "Sneaking away like this after all that happened between us? You wound me," he says as she turns to him, with eyes open wide and a scowl appearing upon her face as she meets his grin.

"I suggest you to not give me any idea about actually wounding you," she replies, flat.

"Oh, kinky," he grins, "I don't have chains but maybe I can find ropes somewhere if that's what works for you."

Damon remembers perfectly what works for her; Bonnie has very sensitive nipples and every time their chests brushed together during their mating her intake of air became sharper. She also likes it when he holds her close so that her soft breasts are crushed against his hard muscles. Not to mention, the deep, slow strokes drive her to madness and she looks so triumphant when she's riding on top of him.

God, he really needs to stop now before she notices any _solid evidence_ of this remembrance of his.

"Can you be any more disgusting?" she asks, grimacing.

"If that's the way you like it, of course I can" Damon answers with a gleam, knowing way too well that that was not what Bonnie meant to say, "I'm a real master in the dirty talk department," he assures her as she massages her temples with both her hands.

"What a surprise," she mutters.

"I know I have the _hard stallion_ kind of image, which I'll let you know it's quite deserved, but very, very, _very_ deep inside I'm a sensitive guy too, and I like to cuddle after," well, he never did, but he's not against the idea now. Besides, he just really wants to find a way to stretch this moment as much as he can so he'll say anything that passes into his brain, hoping he will have some luck for once.

Bonnie makes a disgusted sound as she replies, "Please, spare me the details."

"You're really heartless, you know?" he protests as she looks at him like she wants to murder him, "After all we shared, you know, the steamy passion and all that, you go and ignore my feelings." His tone is light, like he's joking around and yet he is not. Damon is happy that she's back, even like this, but there's a little, greedy, petty side of him that can't wait for Bonnie to be the girl she was before; or more exactly, the girl she _will be_. And he has no way to tell her that if not by joking.

_I'm hunting shadows in the dark_

_In steaming jungles of the world_

_Either to kill or to be killed_

_By creatures never named or heard__  
_

But it's not her fault if she can't remember what never happened, right? And he had said himself that it was fine with him, hadn't he?

(_"You rocked my world. Believe me, this will be such a precious memory for me.", "It seems like you didn't rock mine if you consider that I don't remember a thing, so I wouldn't spread the news.", "That's good for me, it means next time it will be like the first time all over again. I am a romantic, you see.")_

"All I'm trying to ignore is you," she answers. Which, let's admit it - she thinks to herself, sighing - he makes it an impossible task.

"Good luck with that," he says.

When Bonnie stands and circles the bed to walk to the door he puts himself in front of it.

"My patience is getting thin," she says, "Move aside."

"I'm sorry," he bursts out. He pulled the string as much as he could and he knows it's about to break it, so he must push this conversation in another direction.

She looks surprised and wary. That word, despite its meaning, has a strange - maybe even dangerous - sound coming out of Damon's mouth.

_I'm lifting wishes to the stars_

_The gleaming satellites of time_

_Orbiting circles overhead_

_To futures when your love is mine__  
_

"About pretty much... everything. But, staying on the latest subject, I wasn't that happy with the idea of you with a broken neck," he admits, "so I went for the lesser of evils."

"And you know something about evil, don't you?" Bonnie asks, the sarcasm clear in her voice.

_Fuck_. Maybe Damon's just being pessimistic here but he thinks he had done a better job the first time around.

"Can we skip the obvious?" he asks back, "I'll admit I may have made a few questionable choices-"

"A questionable choice would be using margarine instead of butter to bake a cake!" she replies, with growing irritation, "And turning my mother into a vampire should not fall under that category, but after all, what can I expect? Anything that doesn't directly affect you or Elena is not more than a blimp on the radar, isn't it?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. That's not what I meant," he tries to defend himself.

He just wants to fix this. He just wants to find whatever words that will do the trick and make her stop hating him, and yet he's doing just the opposite. Bonnie looks at him like she's surprised she's even bearing the fact to be in the same room as him.

"Of course not!" she says, ironic.

_But you were always pretty reckless with your love_

_Come with the sun and get it restless when it's gone_

_And when you go you'll leave me breathless and alone_

"I'm trying to apologize here, why the hell won't you let me?" Damon's cool is gone, and his hands are open in frustration as he yells to her face.

"Because that's not you!" she yells back, and she's tempted to tell him to stop looking at her like he actually gives a damn about what she thinks because she knows better. That's what bothers her more than anything, she realizes. That's what makes Bonnie feel on the edge.

Maybe she's just imagining things but there's something very different about him, some kind of nakedness in his eyes and it eats at her. Maybe she's getting involved or maybe he's trying to fool her - like she is some stupid girl that can easily be manipulated - but in both cases she cannot allow it.

Damon just stares at her, trying to regain his composure and think fast about what to do next. Because she's not ready to jump from reluctant allies to what he needs them to be.

"It's not like I'm asking you to sign a contract with your blood or something," he says, shrugging with some sort of quiet indifference, "I'm just trying to call a truce, since you helped me with the Rebekah situation."

"I wonder why I even bothered," she says, trying her best to look like she regrets it. Her posture relaxes a bit and he grins bitterly. Bonnie can be in the same room as him, but she's so very distant. It had been so easy to get used to having her in his personal space, to have her at the receiving end of his playful, flirty looks. To have her, _period_.

"Such a sweet mouth, you're going to kill someone with all that poison," he says.

"That's a good perspective. Wanna try?" she asks, too set on showing her disdain for him to pay any real attention to what she actually just said.

Damon bends slightly towards her and she doesn't move because that would be like admitting she can be somehow affected by his proximity. Yet, her body is stiff and she holds her breath, ready to burst his brain into flames at the first move. But all Damon does is fix his blue eyes into her and Bonnie can't decide if his words sound more like a threat or a promise, "You should know better than to ask for something you might just get."

"You won't be that stupid," she says, doing her best to not show any weakness.

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence but, who knows, I could decide that it's just a way like another to shut your pretty, judgmental mouth," he says; and his voice is not hard enough, or maybe it's his tone that's way too low. Bonnie can't tell. All that she knows is that she needs to get out of the room, because the air is so heavy with tension that it feels like trying to breathe through concrete.

Before she can tell Damon to go to hell or something equally endearing, he moves aside and shows her the door with an elegant gesture of his hand; Bonnie marches out of the room with her head held high, slamming the door behind her.

Y_ou leave me breathless, when you close the door_

_It feels just like you took the air out of the room with you__  
_

__"Fuck!" he breaks out. That's the shortest, most accurate explanation ever.

#

**Note:** This must be my shortest update, I know, but I supposed it was better then nothing at all, right? The song I used in this chapter is "Breathless" by Dan Wilson.


	29. Chapter 29

He doesn't need to push his luck, he knows that, yet he opens the door of his bedroom once he's sure she can't notice it and watches her descend the stairs and stop abruptly when she catches Stefan standing on the side and looking at her.

"Bonnie-" his voice is half choked, and his expression sobers up fast as she turns her face like she can't stand the very sight of him and walks out of the house.

Maybe it's petty of him, but Damon is glad that for once his little brother takes the shorter end of the stick too.

"So, it seems like Saint Stefan gets the cold treatment too…" he's quite marveled about that, and if he was a more mature person he would not pry right now, but maturity is so boring. He'll leave that to his brother.

"What did you expect? We _did _bet her life on a coin toss," he reminds him, bitterly, "Not really our brighter moment," Stefan says with regret darkening his face.

"Yeah, well, she always had a soft spot for the brooding ones," Damon admits between his teeth. To be painfully true about this, Stefan had a way with her – like with the rest of the world, mind you – and he never did, and it bothers him.

"Yeah, but she always had a spine, too,"

"Don't I know it?" Damon asks letting himself fall on the red sofa, "You can't teach me anything in the Bonnie department. You could beat people unconscious with that spine of hers," he comments rolling his eyes, "But I have to say, she's quite flexible too. The cheerleading training should be constitutional. If the occasion requires it, she bends so well that-"

"Yeah, I get the picture," Stefan cuts him to stop his game; his brother looks at him with a grin like he has the upper hand and he shakes his head with a resigned sigh.

"Glad you do," he says with a wink, "It is one hell of a picture."

"Oh, I see," Stefan says aloud, nodding at his brother's childish, territorial attitude, and flaunting a mocking grin spread on his lips.

Damon does his best to ignore it but his brother is very good at keeping up an expression for a long time; maybe because his repertoire is quite limited so he must make the best of the few he's got.

"What?" Damon finally asks, annoyed.

"Nothing," Stefan replies with a shrug, "I was just thinking…you do realize that I never dated Bonnie, right?" The implication is clear, and Damon's jaw tightens as he adds, "But I could fix that if it can make things easier for you."

"I will play domino with your bones if you don't stop this pitiful attempt at showing some sort of sense of humor," he warns him.

He rationally knows his brother is just messing with him; he's sure Stefan would never be able to love anyone else but Elena, but there was a time Damon shared this same mentality regarding Elena, and look at him now. So the joke fails at being funny and a nerve under his jaw begins to pull in a very unpleasant way. He'll be damned if he admits it, but this thing is hard enough right now as it is, without the competition, and he'd like for it to stay that way, thank you very much.

Damon's cellphone rings in his pocket and when he looks at the flashing screen it takes him a moment to connect the dots.

"Who is it?" Stefan asks as he puts the phone next to his ear.

His voice is not completely firm as he speaks but the man on the other side doesn't catch the difference.

"Hey, Rick," he says and his conversational skills lack from there on; by the end of the call he's not sure if he accepted to meet him later that night for a drink or a shrink –whom could be kind of useful at this point - or whatever. The mere concept of talking to his deceased friend left him unable to concentrate enough to process the actual words and when he turns to tell Stefan- whom got out of his sight at some point - he finds himself staring at Lucy and Abby Bennett in all their witchy glory.

"Ladies," he greets them with a fake smile, standing up from the sofa "what displeasure to see you again…let me guess, you're here to bring some good news."

Lucy looks at him with a dangerously serene expression, like she's mentally counting the ways she could kill him and is having fun at that.

"Let's not waste time," Abby says, "We shouldn't be here."

"I knew there was something we could agree on," he quips.

"You bloodsucker-"

"Let's focus," Lucy cuts in, "Shall we?" she asks, but doesn't really wait for an answer as she turns to Stefan to talk to the more sensible Salvatore, "I'm sure you noticed that things didn't go quite as predicted."

"You could say that."

"Yes and why is that?" Damon asks.

Lucy sighs, "During the invocation I heard voices and bits of conversations, so my guess is that the witches are trying to stop Bonnie from doing something they didn't agree with," she explains looking back at Damon.

"You have any idea what it is exactly?"

There are many options to choose from: a pact with the hybrid's daddy, a murder, a hot exchange of body fluids with a vampire. Pick one; he's tempted to tell her.

"No idea," he answers instead.

She's clearly unsure whether to believe him or not but she has no time to waste.

"Okay, listen, we can't stay too long because the balance is delicate. It turns out, bending time was a better option than to deny nature resurrecting her but this doesn't mean we can do as we please. We need to change as few things as possible and we can't stay. It's on you now. Whatever it is, they want her to stay clean of it. She shamed our legacy."

"So we stop her from having too much fun with dark magic, Bonnie won't die and the witches will be happy," Damon piques.

"I don't know about that," Lucy says.

"You don't know about part exactly?" he asks arching one eyebrow.

"There's only so much we can do. There's no guarantee that the outcome of it all will be any different."

"Come again?" There's a bitter, angry laugh underneath his words and Damon must strive to hold himself back. The universe must think his heart is some kind of joke, obviously, but he's not laughing.

The witch doesn't seem eager to indulge in this conversation but she speaks anyway.

"The witches want her to honor their legacy and that's why they gave us a chance, but it doesn't mean she can win her destiny. Some things are bound to happen one way or another. I'm telling you that if it's really her fate to die then it will find another way to accomplish itself."

Abby looks away and swallows and that's how Damon knows that this is not a bad joke. That he might still lose her again.

He bats his lashes taking in her words.

"It's not," he protests, like he's trying to convince himself, "She won't die again_," I won't let her, _he swears, and he doesn't need to add the words for everyone to hear them.

"Let's hope so," Lucy simply says.

#

"Did you beg?" he asks listening to his brother steps as he enters the house.

"Profusely," he answers, as Damon plays with the glass in his hand.

The silence is telling and Stefan sits opposite his brother, "Let's worry about one thing at a time, okay?" he asks, and Damon only raises his eyes on him, "You know what the witches are angry about."

"There's a large variety of fool deeds she might have soiled her hands with, considering the witches tight ass."

"And you think your recent… _affinity_ might be one of them?"

"So very delicate of you, little brother," he almost laughs looking at Stefan's expression, "You don't think so?"

"It may come as a shock to you, but the world doesn't revolve around you," he says, with a light smile.

"Well, too bad. It should," he decides, "But I supposed befriending Klaus and skinning alive a man can be placed higher on the list."

"What?" the way he burst the question is almost comical and Damon looks at him with a bit of relief. Yes, maybe the witches will not notice such a tiny thing as fucking a vampire compared to that.

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you, I suppose," he says with a shrug.

"You forgot to tell me Bonnie killed a man?" Stefan asks back, "I can easily believe that," he says, sarcastically, "When did that happen?"

"Four months ago, or two weeks from now. I don't know, I'm still confused over this _Back to the Future_ situation. Maybe we should make a diagram or something."

Stefan is incredulous about this, but Damon's too casual behavior about this is a clear indication that he's lying about it. It's obvious he's only tried to protect Bonnie.

"She was often sad," Stefan says, like he understands her better now, "I can imagine how it was for her to live with that burden."

"She didn't kill anybody yet," he says, "She will have no need to cry or hate herself anymore."

He gulps down what remains of his scotch and bites his tongue to hold himself back. Stefan knows that Damon doesn't need to imagine anything; he was there when he could be, when she let him.

"That sounds like a plan," his little brother says, "No pacts, no killings, no angry witches."

"No Bennett stuck in my house," Damon says with a bitter smile, "No addict to fight with. This calls for a celebration, doesn't it?" he asks, jovially.

Stefan just looks at him as he ignores him.

Stopping Bonnie from following that path means they will never live under the same roof, they will never come to an understanding. She will never be forced to put up with Damon, to share a second more than necessary with him. She will never love him, while he'll still love her.

"I'm sorry," he says weakly, and the words fuel Damon's anger.

"About what? That she is alive?" he asks, "Are you really going to look a gift in the horse's mouth?" his voice is a growl, because he is petty and he is sorry too, and he doesn't want to be, "Twenty four hours ago she was a lovely corpse lying six feet under a white gravestone and now she's as annoying and righteous as ever."

Damon gets up and walks away, but Stefan stops him, "Some things are bound to happen, right?" he asks.

"What?" Damon asks back, confused, turning around to look at him.

"Lucy told us, some things are bound to happen one way or another. Maybe this is one of those things. Maybe she will love you again."

"I don't even know if she loved me in the first place," he says shaking his head.

She had decided that they didn't love each other, and he had been so eager to jump on that train. So now he cannot know that she felt just the same as him, and was just as scared as he was about it.

"You really don't?" Stefan asks, like he's just heard something hilarious.

"I'm so glad one of us is having fun here!"

The younger Salvatore raises his hands, showing his palms in surrender, "Sorry man, I was just surprised from your lack of confidence. It's not something I can enjoy often."

"Well, opening your legs is not the same as opening your heart," he answers, "And it's not like there were all that many options available other than me, really."

"Well, I was around often," Stefan shrugs.

"Exactly. No other option, at all," he says flatly.

"Listen Damon, I didn't talk to Bonnie about this because I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, but I think I can say that she's not one to act on impulse in this kind of things. And certainly not with you."

It makes sense, doesn't it? Her moral compass wouldn't let her sleep over a skinned pig she killed when she was in her Dexter mode, how could it let her do the deed with him when there were no feelings on her part? And that' a good point to start, isn't it?

"Well," Damon says pushing his fists in his pockets, "I can't disagree on that" he nods, "And she should be blind to not fall at my feet," he says with a nod, "I mean, look at me, I'm a stud."

Stefan rolls his eyes, recognizing his brother's usual attitude. He wasn't missing it.

Stefan really hopes his courtship repertoire doesn't include that line because in that case Bonnie will kick his ass, and then some.

"You're right," Damon says, "for once."

His brother watches him leave with a renewed good spirit, and just a bit cockier then ever. This is either going to be a disaster or-

He shakes his head.

"Bonnie is going to kill him."


	30. Chapter 30

**Note: **I know I'm not updating as often as before, but sadly I don't have a pc anymore, so I had to borrow it to write this chapter (and the provious on), so please be patient. Thank you ;) The song I used in this chapter is "Other side of the world" by KT Tunstall.

#

In between all the mess and the denying and the waiting for the next funeral, he missed Alaric. The notion is clearer now that he greets him with a slap on the back, as they are shoulder to shoulder.

The contact is slightly longer than usual and Alaric eyes him suspiciously.

"What?" he asks "Are you getting in touch with your feminine side or something?"

Damon points his fingers towards him like he's seriously warning him for his own good, "As long as you're not the one to get in touch with it, man!

Alaric laughs and sits down on the stool, raising one hand to call the bartender's attention.

"My treat," he says as the boy walks towards their side.

"Of course," Damon replies, "I'm already offering my delightful company to even pay."

His friend ignores him as he orders their drinks, and Damon knows he needs to do everything in his power to keep Alaric from dying. The idea is so clear and loud that during the first minutes of their night he's striving to pay attention to whatever he's saying.

"Are you listening?" he asks, turning around to see if there's some attractive woman who has been distracting Damon, but finds none, "Where is she?

"What are you talking about?"

"The girl," he says, "It's always a girl."

"Oh, there's no other girl but you," Damon jokes receiving a grim look.

"C'mon, keep me entertained. Spill," he says taking a sip of his drink, "Something happened that I should know?"

Damon is tempted to laugh but he settles for an ironic grin. He wants to tell him to pack his things and drive away to some hermitage or lonely dirty hole and just hide but this is Alaric – plus one – and he's not one to hide.

Furthermore, what if he fucks the balance more than he already did? What if he spills the guts and he ends up doing something even worse? What will his dark passenger do if he tells him everything that did _not_ happen, yet?

He needs to save his ass without him knowing, so he simply says, "I had a little encounter with our resident witch last night."

"What kind of encounter?" he asks, wary and clearly worried.

"Not the X-rated kind, sadly," he reassures him.

"Like there's any chance," he answers with a little relief.

"You didn't look so sure about that a few moments ago," Damon reminds him, trying to cover his annoyance.

Alaric is his friend, he's supposed to back him up here. He's supposed to be more encouraging along the lines of _yes man, you can do it. Go for it. I'll take care of the corpse of all her other suitors. _

"I temporarily forgot about your vivacious dynamic."

"Whatever," Damon answers and takes a gulp of his drink.

Alaric arches an eyebrow and looks at his friend profile with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Are you… _pouting_?" He asks, incredulous.

"What?" Damon burst, outraged, "I don't pout. I only get affected by a noble indignation. "

"Man, you were totally pouting," he insists, half amused, half worried.

"Do you want to die?" Damon asks, "_Again_?" he adds.

"Is this just an alpha-vampire-thing or, you know…?" he questions, wide eyed like the fire alarm went off in his head.

"Rick, have you been reading _Harmony_? Does it really classify as literature?"

"Don't try and change the subject. You can't mess with Bonnie," he says like he's warning him.

"I always mess with Bonnie. It's kind of in the job description."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't," he says, "Let's admit you're right, okay? Let's hypothesize that Judgy caught my eye…would that be so bad?"

"This is a rhetoric question, right?"

"What?" Damon really can't believe he's serious, "You were never so adamant when it was Elena, what's the difference?"

"The difference is that Elena is not-"he stops talking like he just swallowed the other half of his sentence.

"What? What is Elena _not_?" Damon asks genuinely confused.

"Real," he says, stark, "She's not real. She's like a fantasy, beautiful… as long as she stays unreachable. Which is perfect because she's not going to leave Stefan, and you can hold on to your love for as long as it makes you feel good about yourself."

"You can really aim high, can't you?" he asks. Why did they never have this discussion before? Maybe things could make sense long before the disaster his un-life has been lately. Or maybe not.

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah," he knows he's sorry, and it's not like he can blame anyone but himself for this mess.

Damon's blue eyes fix themselves on Alaric and he sounds deadly set when he asks.

"Don't you think I deserve something real now?"

#

He's just closed his house's door when he answers the phone without looking at the screen.

"What?"

"Damon," her voice has the effect to make him feel temporarily disorientated.

"Hello, beautiful," he says. He thinks that Elena can make him still feel a bit melancholic, with her fragility and prettiness and her habit to chew on her bottom lip.

She's back at being human, at being as far from him as she's always been and it doesn't hurt.

When she asks him to accompany her to Denver to bring her brother back he doesn't know what to do. Part of him is used to being her protector, to run to her every time she snaps her fingers, but he does see the pattern now. He does see the games she unconsciously plays with his feelings, this massacre he subjects his brother and himself to and he's tired of it.

"Listen, maybe you should ask Stefan…"

As soon as he says his name he realized that his brother is standing in front of him, and against any better judgment he shakes his head to tell him to accept her request.

"Or I can say yes right away and put you out of your misery. I know you're addicted to me, can't really blame you," he says, grimacing to his brother.

Once she hangs up he bursts, "Masochistic much?"

"We need to change things as little as possible," Stefan reminds him, turning his back on him.

"You want me to tell you what happens once we are all alone in a hotel room miles away from your broody forehead?" he asks, regretting his words as soon as they have left his mouth.

Stefan does not react but he sees his back go tense as he pours himself a drink.

"No thank you."

"Good, because it's not really entertaining. She sleeps like a rock. It was very stalker-ish on my side and quite boring in general."

He doesn't know if Stefan can tell it's a lie but he doesn't wait to find out.

"I think I like Rick better when he's alive," he says when his brother turns around to face him.

Stefan just nods. There's really not much to say, because he knows that they need to do this. Try and save them all, and hope they really can. That it's not a battle against windmills.

#

During their road trip he finds himself stealing glances her way. Her look and the whole situation are so familiar that he can't wrap his head around it. Elena looks quite self-conscious because of his inspections and she smiles and blushes, tucking a stray of hair behind her ear.

She's the main lead of this romantic movie and doesn't see the difference in him. He himself starts to doubt the difference in him. Damon is tempted to swear.

In the motel room he leaves the bathroom shirtless, with only a bottle of scotch in his hand. The perpetual _déjà vu _isunnerving. He slips on a shirt and she opens her eyes and looks at him under heavy lashes. This time their eyes meet soon and she can't pretend to be asleep and yet her _innocent_ look sends such a clear message. She's so good at leading him on, so good at feeding him with false hope and crumbles of something he always mistook for love. She made him high over unspoken promises and illusions, letting him spiral down to self-destruction with a few, whispered, _oh-so-sorry_ words.

Every time she turns out to be a bad trip, and now she's here, trying to make him swallow the hook all over again. And it would be so easy to just give in to her, he thinks.

Yes, so, so very easy. Stefan would never use it against him.

He was the one to send him on this trip, after all. In more than one way. He had it coming, hadn't he?

Damon lies down next to her, and the bed feels smaller than the first time around.

She looks at him, lovingly, and her lips part to say the words he already knows and he stops her.

"Is there even a point in this?" he asks.

Her expression sobers, as she asks "What do you mean?"

"I think you know," he says, "We're here, in this bed, in the dark… _sharing a moment,"_ he sounds bitter, mocking, "And right now," he says reaching out with his fingertips to her lips "We can share more than that, and you know you want it," his tone is low and intimate, and still sad, "You'll pretend to struggle with it like some kind of fate is chasing you when this is what you really wanted from this trip. And in the end, after you played me for a fool, you're gonna realize that my little brother is the one you can't live without."

Elena keeps her eyes wide, like he's been stripping off her skin; it's her turn, for a change. She inhales sharply and trembles, looking at him horrified.

"Damon… I never- I-how can you-"

"We can do that," he says, his voice lighter for a moment when he says those four words, "I could follow you out of the door and down the hallway when you run from me, and I could to kiss you breathless against a pillar, until your skin burns. I could to do it all, and let you hurt both me and my brother. Because that's what you do," he says, "Against your best intentions," he adds when he sees her big brown eyes water up with mortification.

Her heartbeat is frantic, and he breaths in the smell of the cheap furniture.

"So, what will it be?" he asks, unblinking.

#

Elena can't look at him in the eyes for days, and it's uncomfortable but at least he's got the company of his pride now. It's new to him.

She feels the urge to avoid him as much as possible and still not let her friends know about what happened – or better, _not_ happened- between them during their trip, so she keeps to herself. And Bonnie follows.

He's dying to bother her, to provoke her desire, to awaken some passion inside that wonderful body of hers but she's technically never alone.

So he must go through Elena first. Her resolve to avoid him crumbles as fast as usually does her resolve to be angry at him for his many faults.

Such a spine, this girl.

#

This time, when he pushes the door to Elena's bedroom it's Bonnie he's expecting to find. It's Bonnie he wants to see, and for once things go the way they are supposed to.  
She's looking at herself in the mirror to check out her new dress for the ball, and he can't help but use this opportunity to look at her, too. She's holding her hair up from her face and she's very concentrated on what she sees. God, was she always so beautiful?

Bonnie is curvy and if he concentrates enough, he can vividly remember those curves under the palms of his hands. The pearly black of her dress gives a different glow to her mocha skin. She's not wearing shoes and he can see the bronze nail polish on her toes. The naked feet on the floor makes Damon recall the night when she was _accessible_ and _close_ and _naked_ in his arms – things she could never be again. Not around him, he fears.

He knows there must be a way for him to get to her. He knows for a fact that he's able to read her, and yet this Bonnie cannot accept the idea of him being the one to decipher her.

She's pouting while she's contemplating her attire, and she looks so young, so cute. So tempting.

Once again she reminds him of a bird and he doesn't say anything.

This time she's the one to notice his presence.

Bonnie sees his face in the mirror, reflecting right behind her,.

"Oh, God!" she says pressing one hand to her chest, to will her heart to slow down.

_Over the sea and far away  
She's waiting like an iceberg  
Waiting to change  
But she's cold inside  
She wants to be like the water_

"Flattery will get you anywhere, little bird," he says with a grin.

She grimaces, turning towards him. _So insolent_, he gets on her nerves so easily. He's like a physical reflex, and it would feel quite hazardous if she let herself ponder about it.

"Is there something you're trying to do here other than give me a heart attack?"

"Your insinuations hurt my feelings. The regularity of your heartbeat is quite dear to me," he says, and he only half sounds like he's joking, "but I'll overlook it since I'm here for a happy occasion, little bird."

Oh, great, new nickname.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed with this familiarity he has with her. One or two degrees more than usual. Just enough to make her crazy.

"I'm not a little bird," she replies, crossing her arms under her breast.

"You look like one to me," he says, shrugging, "The feathers, the attitude. So gracious… can you sing too?" he asks suddenly curious.

_All the muscles tighten in her face  
Buries her soul in one embrace  
They're one and the same  
Just like water_

He knows she's not the kind to sing in the shower. Mind you, she had no reason to be cheerful enough to sing when they lived together so he can't be certain.

"Crawl back to your hole of a happy occasion, Damon," she says, ignoring his question.

"I am already there," he replies and she looks at him like he's the maniac of the horror movie and she's the girl that survives them all. Well, he really wants her to.

"I took a good look at your dress," and what's under it, "So I know what corsage will suit it better. What's left to decide is at what hour I'm going to pick you up."

Bonnie brings one hand to her temple and looks like he's giving her a headache. That would really be some change.

"Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?" she asks in exasperation.

"I'm going to be your date for the ball. Try and not faint from joy," He informs her.

"You're delusional," she says flatly.

_The fire fades away  
Most of everyday  
Is full of tired excuses  
But it's too hard to say_

"I'm many things, one of those is your date for the ball," she's ready to send him to hell but he raises his hand to stop her from talking and then explains, "I can't go much into details but Elena is in danger, yada-yada, Rick is going to die unless we do something about it. Long story short, be ready at nine o'clock."

"I already have a date," oh he remembers that way too well, thank you very much, "and you expect me to humor you and waste my night at the ball with you because you _can't go much into details about Elena and Alaric being in danger_? You'll have to do better than that," she says, like she's daring him to find any reason good enough for her to do it.

"Listen," he says, serious and unbearably _open, "_I know you have the good habit to not trust me, which usually flatters me, but you know I just want Elena and Alaric to be safe. I know Esther is planning something, I know that she'll turn Rick and make you feed him-"

"I would never-"

"You know better than anybody what magic can do. So I need you to be with me."

He looks a lot like he's hanging from a thread. The mere concept of Damon putting himself in the position to be at her mercy is insane but here he is; a marble-white creature whom survived through centuries because he never gave anybody a second thought, never let anybody (else, but Katherine and Elena) have or suspect to have the upper hand, telling her he _needs_ her with him.

"How do you know what's going to happen?"

"I can't tell you."

Bonnie shakes her head; a _no_ is already playing on her tongue but "Please," he says, "I need you to trust me. Just this once."

_I wish it were simple  
But we give up easily  
You're close enough to see that  
You're the other side of the world to me_

_Fuck. _It's all so unsettling. The sound of his voice, which has a note she can't help but like, the way he looks at her, so focused.

How painfully blue his eyes suddenly look.

She needs to swallow the rock stuck in her throat and cover her bare arms with her hands, almost hugging herself, because for a moment she fears she might not have her clothes on.

She doesn't trust him. Now more than ever, and yet she knows he's sincere – with all the things left unsaid, with all the concreteness he possess now - if he was ever sincere, he is right this moment.

"Okay. Fine," she says even if everything rational inside her head screams to kick him out, now, before it's_ too late_.

"Look at the bright side. I'm a fantastic dancer," he grins swinging his hips, forcing her to bite her lips to not smile.

"See? You'll love it," he says, leaving the room. It sounds threatening, and she thinks she must be losing her mind because she can grill his ass any time she likes it and he _can't _be threatening to her.

"Nine thirty!" she screams once he's out of the door.

She must always have the last words, he smile shaking his head. She's just the same as ever.


	31. Chapter 31

He lets the door close behind him before turning his head toward the manor hall.

Bonnie is there sitting on his leather sofa, feet tucked under her, while Stefan stands in front of her. To meet her eyes, his little brother gets down on one knee and puts both his hands at her sides - on the cushions of the sofa- looking at her with that mastered_ I'm here for you_ expression of his.

Damon is not allowed to wear that expression in front of her because that would get him her immediate distrust. He could never touch her like that without her flinching or, more probably, burning his brain until his visual goes black.

"There is no rush," he says, gently, "we can do this slowly."

It bothers him that she can accept Stefan's support – his fucking hands – while he's barely allowed to be in her presence.

"Or you can just not do it at all," he cuts in before Bonnie can reply to his little brother, "Which I strongly suggest".

"Damon," Stefan raises his head to meet his eyes over Bonnie's shoulders, then gets up, "Bonnie and I are… working on her powers," he explains, trying to make it look like this situation never occurred before.

It's like having to work around a script, and it feels strange.

"Sounds fun, maybe I can help," Damon pipes walking around the sofa to look at her, whom seems not happy at all with his suggestion.

"Well-"

"I can do without," she answers before Stefan can say anything.

"Sure, it sounds just like that."

Bonnie gets up, already irritated and ready to leave "Stefan I think I'm just going to-"

"Give up because I'm too damn stubborn and proud to let Damon help me," Damon says mimicking a feminine voice.

Stefan brings one hand to cover his face, wishing he could hide from the upcoming disaster. One of this days he needs to inform Damon that diplomacy would not kill him.

"You have some nerve! Like you are _ever_ the one to help me instead of the other way around!"

"I'm here trying to change the trend if you haven't noticed," he says, "I'll have to admit there's only so much gratitude I can manage towards your Judgy persona so I thought I'd volunteer my service."

"You can go and offer your service to someone else."

"They all had it and liked it, sweetie!"

"You're such a dick," she says, gritting her teeth.

"I _have_ such a-"

"Time out!" Stefan steps into their verbal aggression with his hands high, mimicking a _T_.

"Don't pull her hair," he says looking at his brother, "Don't throw him toys," he says to Bonnie, treating them like they are spoiled children throwing a tantrum, "Let's play nice, shall we?" Somewhere in the back of his mind resounds the word _foreplay_ but he doesn't want to think of _that_. It's disturbing.

"Please, sit," he says, sitting down and waiting for Bonnie and Damon to do the same. Once they soon conceded, still staring each other down, Stefan continues to speak.

"So, we were trying to channel her powers to work on a telepathic communication… we just seem to be missing something. You think you can help?"

Damon doesn't move his eyes from Bonnie as he listens and then answers "Probably."

Bonnie's attention is hooked but her expression is hard.

"I once knew this witch. A feisty little thing, quite flexible and with a round-"

"On topic!" Bonnie reminds him, trying to cover her embarrassment_. Really?_ She thinks; can he be any more disgusting? He's like a child who loves to jump on his parent's bed even if they told him a million times not to. Except that it's her nerves he jumps on.

Damon grins, "Sorry. I was reminiscing."

"Reminisce another time," she warns him.

"So, this witch I knew. She could telepathically converse with vampires-"

"Only with vampires?"

"I can't really tell. It came handy with vampires, and humans are generally a lot easier to trace down."

"How did she open the channel?" she asks, eager to have her answers.

"Well, she needed to concentrate on the feelings arose from the ones she wanted to communicate with. The most elemental ones," he explains, watching her nod as she takes it in.

She pursued her lips, processing his suggestion. It seems harmless enough so she moves her eyes on Stefan - ready to try and communicate with him – takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

Stefan and Damon look at each other and the younger Salvatore mouths _do something,_ opening both hands and gesturing towards the witch. Damon grimaces trying to think of something to say, as fast as he can.

"That's your look of concentration?" he asks, in a rush, "It looks more like you're having a sexual fantasy."

"Shut up," she warns him as her jaw tightens.

"You're already at the good part?" he asks, whispering.

Bonnie's eyes snap open and she asks in the same tone "Weren't you trying to help?"

"I can multitask, I can help you with both things at the same time," he answers, all wide-eyes and innocent, as her eyebrows were furrowed together.

"What both-"but Bonnie stops herself before finishing her sentence and points her index towards him "Don't. Don't say it."

Damon smiles and bats his lashes, just to annoy her.

"You drive me crazy!" she says gritting her teeth, and closing both her fists at her side.

"I'm good like that," he says, nodding.

Bonnie lets herself fall back against the cushions of the sofa and shakes her head, bent back so she can see the ceiling. A growl comes out from the back of her throat.

"Are we feeling lazy?"

"No, we're feeling murderous," she answers, looking back at him.

"Stop trying to turn me on, little bird," he accuses her.

She brings both her hands to cover her face. _I'm so going to kill you,_ she promises_, I_ _swear_, _it's like dealing with a sex addicted child with an attention deficit hyperactive disorder. Will Ritalin work on a 150 year old vampire?_

"I'm 148 years old," he clarifies, "And I like to call it a _healthy sexual appetite"_

Bonnie takes her hands away from her face, and looks at him wary.

"I didn't say a word."

"But I heard you all the same," he says, smiling.

She rolls her eyes, looking up and murmuring to herself "I want to die."

#

Alaric closes the door behind him and looks around the room. He's not picky and he will not stay here for long, but he's not thrilled about spending the night in a filthy motel because Damon insisted him to without telling him the reason.

He trusts Damon but he's neither a puppet nor a child and the situation is not appealing. His friend gave him a string bracelet and insisted for him to stay out of town for one night. They argued for half an hour and then Alaric decided to humor him.

After all, knowing him, it's not really the worst thing he could ask him. At least now he owes him; maybe he can uses this as leverage the next time Damon decides to do something very stupid. Which happens twice a day.

"Oh, well," he says to the empty room, looking at his left wrist.

He guesses Bonnie has something to do with it since Damon insisted that that string bracelet will protect him. From what, he doesn't know.

#

When she opens the front door of her house she's not surprised at all to meet his cocky grin; he would never pass up an opportunity to annoy her and that grin does exactly that to her. It makes something in her stomach burn and her expression gets hard because of it.

What she's not expecting is for him to look so _dashing_ into his suits. Damon is wearing a three pieces _jazz suit _made with aslim-fit frock coat and severely tapered high-water trousers coat, a five button vest, and a button-fly trouser_,_ which looks made-to-measure. The black fabric and the light tie makes the color of his eyes more intense.

It's unnerving, truly.

The only reaction she allows herself is batting her lashes twice, with a bored look on her face, like she's wishing he'd disappear in front of her. She's not that lucky.

"You're not inviting me in?" he asks candidly, and she curves her lips into a derisive grin.

"Funny. Try again," she answers as she turns to take her purse and home keys.

Bonnie closes the front door, making sure it's locked and turns around to face a box Damon places on the palm of her open hand right above his heart. With an agile movement of his fingers he makes the box open without using his other hand, bent behind his back.

She's tempted to ask if he has a weapon hidden but it's an unlikely possibility, and the corsage lying inside the box grasps her attention. It's a beautiful white orchid with a tiny jewel in the middle, and she looks at it cautiously.

"It's not going to bite," Damon says, making her straighten up, like Bonnie's ready to defend herself from a sudden attack.

"You shouldn't have."

"It's no problem," he shrugs.

"No, _I mean it_," she spells, "you shouldn't have. We are going to spend a limited amount of time together just out of necessity. I'm not thrilled or happy about this, and once the night is over I'm going to forget it ever happened."

"Sounds familiar," he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes.

"I see what's so enticing about you. You can sweet-talk your way into anything," he says, sarcastically, gaining a dirty look.

Damon takes the corsage and hands her the box with a "here", pushing it against her palms, ready to pin it on her.

She looks outraged by his mere intention and starts to protests "If you think I'm going to let you-"

"Shhh," he hushes her and speaks with a low tone, looking firm and serene, "Keep it up and I'm going to do a lot of _thinking_, and I can guarantee you that it would be the kind you'd be embarrassed about," he says, fixing his eyes into hers, "I imagined you would have felt more comfortable with my little token if it didn't need to be pinned anywhere near your very agreeable curves, so…" he doesn't finish his speech as he rises his hands to her hair and bends his head to softly pin the orchid into her tamed curls.

Bonnie stands still as he performs this little ritual. And she can swear she can feel the touch of his fingertips, and the smell of cologne on his skin. In this position she can see the seaming of his clothes and the way the vest fits perfectly over his thorax. Damon towers over her, fixing the flower in her hair with unbearable slow care and she cannot remember to breathe.

Her eyelashes tremble but that's all the emotion she permits herself while waiting for him to be finished.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks, with a strangely hoarse voice, taking a step back to look down into her eyes.

"It's a question of perspective," she answers, wishing she could sound harsher.

"Really?" he asks back, shrugging casually, "Well, from my perspective everything's fine. My taste is impeccable," and then his tone sounds even and yet impossibly gentle, "I have an eye for beautiful things."

And for a moment she feels like a teenager – who she is, really, if anyone would ever remember that every now and then - and she would like to ask him if he's talking about the corsage or her, only she's not going to ask that because it would be stupid. Like Damon can ever pay her a compliment.

The best thing coming out from his mouth is usually some kind of twisted approval about her powers, just to diminish her two seconds later just because. More importantly, no one can ever compare to Elena in his eyes. Anything hinting to the contrary, or to the mere fact he doesn't find her bad on the eyes, would be a trap. A way to buy a favor or two.

This is Damon Salvatore, after all, and she's not going to fall for his tricks.

#

The cable broadcasts a limited selection of channels. When he's almost tempted to buy a wearable sleeping bag he realizes it's time to change channels.

He surfs the channels and finds a very loud, very boring porn, a cooking show for vegans, and a boy with glasses as thick as bourbon glasses talking about the least watched movie of the history of cinema _- Zyzzyx Road_. The director, a guy called John Penney, filmed it in 2006; the movie cost two million dollars and cashed thirty bucks. When they show the trailer he recognizes the girl from Roswell and Grey's Anatomy, but the movie looks so bad that he's bored already after the first fifteen seconds of the thing. She screams and jumps out of the bed and the scream looks fairly real. In fact, when he mutes the TV the screaming goes on.

In the room next to his a girl begs and he wonders for a moment if it's just some kind of role play between lovers, but then he hears a bump against the wall and a whining sound and he gets up from the bed and leaves the room.

Everything happens very fast. He skims the face of the man with a black eye and a bleeding nose and goes to the girl, all curled up on her side, wearing cheap lingerie and a look older than her actual age.

The man, who looks to be in his late forties, throws a few useless threats his way as he picks up his clothes from the ground but shuts up immediately when Alaric looks back.

"I'm going to call an ambulance," he says to the girl, but she shakes her head and begs him not to.

"No, please, no. No one can know. Please."

She's still shocked; holding on to one of his arms and her face is tear-stained and smeared with her black mascara.

He's trying to calm her down when the man takes the lamp from the nightstand and tries to smash it on his head.

Alaric shelters himself with his left forearm and manages to divert the blow making the lamp smash against the opposite wall.

The only thing that keeps him from running after the man fleeing from the room is the cry of the pitiful girl holding on to him.

It takes him almost half an hour to calm her down and convince her to consider reporting the man; she was looking for love, or more probably a father figure and she found _this_. A man whom manipulated her and abused her and left her bruised even where the eye can't look.

He buys her something to eat even if she's just starving for care, and helps her clean herself up.

When he leaves the room, accompanying her outside where the cab is waiting for her, the string bracelet is on the floor.


	32. Chapter 32

_This chapter is dedicated to TheWunzelx3/dobsleysbamon for making the most beautiful trailer ever for Dormiente. Thank you honey._

#

In the eyes of someone who actually got to live the twenties, all this is not even a pale shadow of how raw and fascinating that time was, but he's not going to complain. That would not be a worthy activity considering he knows you never gain anything from doing that. Furthermore, he likes the here and now.

Bonnie is with him now.

"What's your plan now?" she asks him in that _businesslike_ voice of hers which spurs his imagination almost as fast as his blood. It's not his fault that he finds something very sexy about Bonnie Bennett and dominance.

"The next part, I don't know if you can handle it," he says looking perplexed over the dance floor.

"What?" she bursts, insulted, caring to lower her voice only when Damon's signals her to once spotting a girl turn around.

"You brought me here because you _need _my help, and I'm perfectly capable to do whatever it is that needs to be done. So I'm not going to let you brush me aside just because you're too comfortable and used to the spineless women you like so much to surrender yourself with," her voice is harsh and her eyes burn with righteous indignation.

She's all fire and passion, and Damon must keep himself from licking his lips in anticipation. Or better yet, lick _hers_.

He turns towards her, looking at her straight in the eyes, like he's trying to measure her value, to understand if what she just told him is true. The color of his piercing iris eyes is something she can't get used to.

"You sure?" he asks, giving her one last chance to back out.

"I am."

"You need to… have fun," he spells the last two words like some sort of deadly menace, leaving her dumbstruck for a moment.

"I should have kn-"

"We need to look like we have not a care in the world," he explains before she can launch herself into a full session of insults centered on his maturity, or lack thereof, "Harmless and unsuspicious. Just like we know nothing about what's their plan for tonight."

"_I know nothing_ about their plan for tonight. In fact I don't even know who _they_ are!" she answers, exasperated. She hates to be in the dark. She hates to not be in control.

"Good. That's the spirit!" he nods, grinning, "I knew you were the one for the job."

Bonnie is about to give him a piece of her mind but as soon as her lips move he takes her hand and drags her to the dance floor. There's no time to tell him she'd rather die than being in close proximity with him before she's up, high two feet above the floor, with his hands tight around her waist. It's almost this overwhelming feeling of sudden freedom, the sense of lightness filling her chest as her body goes high, and she overtops among the crowd.

Her thighs brush against the length of Damon's body as he brings her back down to Earth. She realizes that there's something inside of her longing that instant feverish abandonment. It's like opening her eyes to a place within her that was long forgotten. And so what does it matter if this mute part of her soul gets its voice back when she's with Damon of all people? She likes this too much to worry over a coincidence.

He spins her around, her pearls necklace cuts the air as she moves and colors blur in her vision.

Damon pulls her back by the hand and she senses an unknown sensation of tension enveloping them both as the space between them closes up. It must be the suggestive sound of the trumpet, the catchy beat of the music. She feels good. So much that she can even overlook the fact that she's feeling good with Damon. Which is against her moral code, and probably the Ten Commandments too.

His way of leading, her way of being led, works together like magnetism; it's a push and pull born from instinct, but as the rhythm changes, this concept stops being ironical to become simply inevitable.

There's a dare in his blue eyes, in the irreverent way his mouth curves and she cannot back down from a challenge. It bothers her how intimate his hand feels on her back, how he's leading with confidence, and the way he can make up for her inexperience with such an old-fashioned, yet intriguing, dance style.

"Nervous?" he asks her, when she avoids his gaze.

"Bored," she declares with as much indifference as she can master to cover up the tension she feels.

"Really?" he asks, faking a genuine state of puzzlement, "That's quite strange. The waltz was very risqué in the twenties," he explains, "it was the first time the partners held each other," he adds slightly tightening his hold and taking a spin with her.

She pushes herself to converse with him merely to regain the control that seems to slip from her hands every time she thinks she's got it. She swears it's like he's doing it on purpose. Considering it is Damon he's _surely _doing it on purpose.

"What about the Charleston then?"

"Oh, that was dangerously corrupt," he says leaning towards her to look in her eyes and make an outraged, funny face, "Just what was good to shake things up a bit."

She almost expects him to change the rhythm of their dancing to make a point but he just keeps on waltzing gently with her. That's why she can't understand why all of a sudden she can see what's so risqué about this.

"I'm sure you shaken them up plenty," she murmurs to herself.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he says with a shameless grin she can't see, "I guess when you can't have what you need, you start to need what you can have," he adds in a murmur, like he's talking to himself.

He remembers that time pretty well, because it was just the same as always, him drinking and breaking his way out of pain he carried with him like a family heirloom. He missed Stefan, and he missed Katherine, and most of all he missed himself as he partied with what was left of him.

Bonnie feels uncomfortable now, like he's too close. Like he's all over her and clothes are not a good enough barrier. She looks over his shoulder to distance herself from this as they dance – whatever _this_ is – and she sees Elena, all fair and delicate in her white dress, warm eyes looking up at Stefan, oblivious to the rest of the world.

#

The worst thing about school dances is the fact that you can't find alcohol unless you search for them on the dumbest representative of an average teen. Which he won't do because he'd like to put his hands on someone better shaped. Like Bonnie.

"So, how is it going?" his brother asks, walking up to him at the drinks table.

"In a terribly sober way," Damon answers grimacing.

"I figured you would have brought a hip flask," Stefan comments pouring a pink colored drink for Elena.

"That's already dry," he says, "How about you and the never-vampire doppelganger?"

"Love takes time and care," Stefan answers cryptically turning to look at Elena chatting with Caroline.

Damon rolls his eyes at his molasses but damn if he isn't right.

"_Time_, mostly," he says turning and looking towards Bonnie dancing with Matt, as he stands shoulder to shoulder with his brother. He's so eager to hold her, murmur against her ear, be inside her. _Haveherhaveherhaveher_. And he can't. Go figure.

"I suppose this is the moment I say… I'm sorry for going after your girlfriends." Damon says.

"No, you're not," Stefan says, as they both keep on looking in different directions.

"No, I'm not," Damon admits lightly.

"It's okay."

It's so like his little brother to say something like that. He gives him hell for a century or two and in the end it's okay.

He meets Bonnie's eyes over Matt's shoulder and he can feel a natural, spontaneous pull towards her. He's tempted to step in even if he just left her.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come to this."

This: Bonnie, a clean shot at love, a future that's worth fighting for, the truth about us. Just _this_.

Stefan turns his head towards him, catching his brother profile.

"Yeah, you are."

Damon grins turning towards him, "Yeah, I am."

But when he turns again to look at Bonnie he sees her eyes grow a bit wider and her mouth curve into a pleased smile. Her eyes are on the clumsy boy putting his weight on one foot then the other, standing on the side of the dance floor and smiling to her.

Bonnie says something to Matt, kisses his cheek and then walks up to Jamie.

"I know you said you had things to take care of tonight, but I thought in between those things I could steal you a dance, or maybe offer my help for whatever you need," he explains once she's in front of him.

"Thanks Jamie, that's sweet of you."

Her smile is flirty, like she's gratified for his attention, and it makes Damon's blood boil because she should not be flirting with him. Most of all, she should not think that all she should settle for is a stupid, incompetent boy she's kind of related to. She can have so much more.

When he sees her taking his hand to be led on the dance floor he wants to go and stop her, maybe break the boy's neck, but Stefan's firm hands on his shoulder stops him.

"Control yourself," he says between his teeth.

"Sure! I'd like to see you in my place, with someone trying to steal your girl away from-"

Stefan's sharp look and the realization of what he's actually saying hits him and he closes his mouth.

"Well, then you know how I feel," Damon insists.

"That's why I'm telling you to control yourself. She won't like it if you kill him or make a scene, so don't give her any more reasons to distrust you."

"Fine," he concedes, but it takes all his restraint not to go there and do what his hands itch to do. He's utterly bothered when he answers his phone to hear Alaric's voice on the other side.

The tense tone in his voice as he says his name is a slap in Damon's face, and he lowers his phone on his side as he tells Stefan that "It's Rick."

#

A petty part of him wants to look at the bright side: he now has a good reason to take Bonnie away from Jamie. The other part is sinking in sorrow by the idea of losing Rick again, by the idea of that chain reaction that it is going to activate.

By the idea of losing Bonnie again, even if he never actually had her, and this time forever.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says with a sarcastic tone, "But we have a problem. And it's time for children to go to bed and leave things to the grown up," he adds looking down at Jamie like he's an insect on the windshield of his new car.

"And you're including yourself in the grown up list? Really?" Bonnie asks, in the same way.

Oh the things about him that are _grown_ and _up_. But he suspects she doesn't need to know that right now.

"Goodbye Jerry," he says looking at Bonnie and ignoring the guy.

"His name is-"

"Don't care," he interrupts her. He takes her hand dragging her away with more gentleness that the dragging usually requires.

"Let go of my hand," she growls pulling her hand away.

Damon stops, turning towards her almost spitting his "Fine", then he places his hand in the middle of her back and walks next to her, somehow shielding her from the dancing crowd using his other arm.

Bonnie bites the inside of her mouth trying to not let their proximity affect her. This close she can guess the hardness of his deltoids, of his biceps and pectorals like he's one of those plastic anatomical models the professor uses during biology class.

#

"If you want to help your friend Alaric I suggest you come with me," Esther says, but when she makes her brilliant suggestion Stefan is there to minimize any damage.

"Look at me," he says using his hands to gently turn her face.

"Just look at me, don't listen to her."

"But Alaric-"

It's hard to explain something so difficult, so inacceptable when there's nothing you can say.

"I know, but you need to trust me. Can you do that?"

Elena is panicking. Torn between her first instinct and _Stefan_. She wants to do what she thinks is right, and yet there's nothing more right in her life or in her heart then Stefan.

#

Bonnie plays with the orchid in her hands before putting it back in her hair, under Damon's stare.

"Are we done now?" she asks him.

He doesn't really have an answer, he _fears_ they are done now, irrevocably so, when just a few minutes before he thought they were at the very beginning.

_Imagine a world without me - say you're falling apart  
Let's pretend you've missed me for a while_

"So eager to go back to make out with Jerry-boy?" he asks, trying to keep at bay his resentment.

"We were just dancing," she says, grimacing, "And it' none of your business."

That's true, isn't it? It's not his business and they weren't making out, _yet, _but he remembers that boy's hands around her and his legs between hers and it hits a nerve.

"Right. It would be really terrible if someone told you the truth right in your face," he says, bitter.

"Yes, because you have such a love for the truth."

"I just decided to practice, but I suppose that such an outstanding and righteous person as you will never fear truth, right?"

_Wouldn't you say you were lonely and love was breaking your heart?  
Put on your Sunday best and fake a smile_

"I will not stay here to listen to your nonsense," she replies turning around only to find him in front of her, yet again.

"Oh no, sweet bird. I listened to your endless reproaches – God only knows why – and you're going to listen to me for once. Because I know you're not dying to hear it out loud but the bitter truth you're running from is that that boy out there is nothing to you. You are so desperate for a family that you'll get your stupid step-brother in your life any way you can, just to tell yourself you are not alone. You're going to waste your time and your hopes on an illusion because you're too scared to-"

"You think you know me or what this is?" she asks, wishing he will just shut up and show some doubt on his face so that she can tell herself he's wrong. But he doesn't.

"I'm a master in the field," both fields, her and going after illusions, "Do _you_ even know what's real?"

"I'm out of here," she says, walking past him, but Damon just takes Bonnie by the arm and turns her around, slipping one hand behind her head and kissing her, _hard_. He forces her mouth open using his lips and he holds her high against him so that her feet don't touch the floor.

_I dream of dreaming dreams of her - in twilight she's a constant blur  
The picture is clear and I'm still fact she's fiction_

Bonnie feels shocked, warm and mad. Mad that her body's reaction is so fast, so powerful that a part of her is glad she's not quite standing because her knees wouldn't hold her up. Yet she's not going to be something he needs just because he thinks he can have her. And she's not going to be the one losing this sick game of his. So she bites on his lip and pushes him away, just enough that she can slap him with all she has.

After that is all silent tension, burning eyes and hard breathing.

Bonnie turns on her heels, feeling a bit weak and concupiscent, and most of all angry. There's something she knows about Damon, and that's that she's not able to feel nothing towards him. So if there's a feeling she can allow herself to feel, it is hate. That's all.

#

When Jamie lies on her bed she's tempted to kiss him again, let his hands wander on her body until he can touch places within her that awoke without her permission.

But she's lying in his arms, feeling guilty as her lips still tingle and burn because of a kiss she wishes to erase from her memory. She's almost surprised all her thinking doesn't keep Jamie awake but she's relieved she can be alone with this little, dirty secret.

_Remember the night you were with me - fell asleep by my side  
Strangers together - your hand in mine_

She liked Damon's kiss. It's not something about the skill or the force because it was rushed and hard, and he probably can do a lot better with a willing participant. It's just that the touch of his lips, of his tongue, sent a shiver through her that moved her to the core. And her heartbeat becomes so wild just thinking about it that it physically hurts.

And then his words repeat themselves in her head; all that talking about what you need and what you can have. Even if she knows what happened is just a twisted extension of their fights and it has nothing to do with genuine feelings, she's stuck on it.

She won't let him use her just because, apparently, Elena picked Stefan. She won't let him use her because he wants her to be as miserable as he feels. She won't let him use her, just to realize she likes it.

_How come we never came closer when all the stars were aligned?  
I thought we had a moment_

She feels alive and aroused and thrilled and ashamed all at once and she cannot bear it.

When the voices in her head start, she raises her gaze on the figure in her bedroom.

She sits slowly and looks at Esther.

She should be scared of her presence, but she somehow knew it, didn't she? She should be worried about her words and what they imply but she expected them somehow, right? Because Damon asked her to trust him just once, just this once, and she couldn't help it.

And so despite how terrible all this is, what this all really means is that Damon looked at her straight in the eyes and told her the truth.

_I dream of dreaming dreams of her - in twilight she's a constant blur  
The picture is clear and I'm still fact she's fiction  
I seem to miss the missing part, she's still my favorite work of art  
The picture is clear and I'm still fact she's fiction_

#

Alaric slipped away quietly and now there's just him and the full moon. This night should have been a new chance at this friendship, a fresh start with Bonnie, and now everything is fucked up and he is alone once again.

How many ways can you spell pathetic?

When he takes his eyes off the moon and lowers his gaze he sees her. There's a weight on his chest and his useless heart is about to break in two when he realizes something's off.

She's not looking as set as before, and she's wearing shoes. This detail just confuses him and calms him down at the same time. And anyway, what can she do now that he's gone?

Bonnie walks ahead and past him and he follows her inside. She lowers her head, surrendering to this new loss.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, wary.

"Esther paid me a visit," she informs him "I thought it was better to keep up the show so she wouldn't suspect anything. The spell I performed before worked."

The jewel on her orchid absorbed the darkness of Esther orders becoming black and leaving her will free and untouched.

"Great," he says with no enthusiasm watching Rick's body in the place he left him.

"You can go now," he tells her starkly, after a minute of silence. But she doesn't move.

"What?" he asks harshly when she looks at him.

"I could stay," she says, "He was your friend," she adds weakly.

"So I'm your charity case of the week now?" He retorted. He's angry at fate, at Rick for dying, at himself, but not at her. And yet she so convenient to lash out to. Mostly because she doesn't care about him that much so whatever he says can't touch her, so why not?

_How long should I wait before I let you go?  
How long should I decide?  
Whose side should I take when both of us were wrong?  
When we both share the blame_

"It was a bad idea," she says turning to leave, but he stops her by the shoulders "Don't," and even if he can see the tension building up in the muscles of her shoulders and back, she doesn't move.

"If you have nothing better to do, I wouldn't mind some company," he admits, "Tomorrow you can go back at hating me and not wanting me around all you want," he murmurs in a voice so low that she's not sure she heard it.

She turns her head to see his fingers on her bare shoulders. And she nods turning towards him.

They spend the night sitting on the grass next to each other, with their back to the rock wall, shoulder to shoulder. The rational side of her can't move her from there, can't tear her away from him. Not now. Not when he tried and failed to save his best friend, not when the girl he loves chose someone else over him. Not when he told her the truth.

The air is cold and it smells like moss and goodbye. She does her best to ignore the shivers that try to shake her, hugging herself quietly; Damon only spares her a glace before slipping his jacket over her shoulders and go back to blankly stare ahead of him.

Bonnie holds it with both hands trying to not pay attention to Damon smell all over the fabric.

"You tried," she says, breaking the silence. Hoping her words won't end up just spurring his hatred.

"It wasn't enough," he answers. It's a painful admission for someone who is never enough for anybody, but she cannot mention that now.

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do," she says, "Sometimes you just have to let go."

And he feels like she's sealing every hope with a few words. Like the whole universe is screaming him to let go of her now.

_Even still, even now  
Even though we fell apart  
Even still, even now  
And I hope we'll meet again  
_

"I don't think I can do that," he says.

"That's okay. Time does that for you."

#

Note: the songs used for this chapter are "Fact-Fiction" by Mads Langer and "Even now" by William Fitzsimmons.


	33. Chapter 33

It's past dawn when she looks at the window of her bedroom through the windshield of her car and sighs, bending her head to press her forehead against the steering wheel.

It's been a crazy night, and she's not sure which part has been crazier.

This is usually the moment when she torments herself wondering if there was something she could have done differently to avoid the bereavement of the week, but this question today belongs to Damon.

She never saw this side of him; the_ aftershock,_ the moment when it's just him and what little remains. Somehow she had presumed he shrugged it all away, or maybe got drunk and moved on, or, more simply, just turned the care-button off. And yet, she had gone to him, to be there and stare at the emptiness with him, or whatever it was she went there for.

Without realizing it fully she knows that didn't go there only to keep up the appearances, but she can't care for someone else too because it means she'll have yet another person to lose and she can't. Above all she can't do that with Damon, the vampire that killed her mother, caused her gram's death and plays hide-and-seek with the truth. Yet, he's all for the truth and what's right, and the sanctity of January Sales when it ends in ruining her time with Jamie.

She takes off the jacket with a harsh movement.

His words punch a hole in her brain and she's fighting not to care while a good boy is waiting for her in her bedroom. Oh, but really, what does Damon know about her? She asks herself getting out of the car. And the answer is simple_: nothing_. It doesn't matter what he spits out when he needs to amuse himself.

_I guess when you can't have what you need, you start to need what you can have. _

He just needs to make someone miserable because he is, because Elena picked Stefan over him once again and he's the waste matter. And he always enjoyed making her life miserable out of anyone else. She could always count on this kind of fondness from him; riling her up keeps him entertained and satisfied. The kiss is just another kind of provocation and she's not going to fall for this trick.

She'll pretend it never happened; yes, that's what she'll do, she decides as she turns the key in the lock.

Bonnie slips off her shoes in the doorway to her room, leaves the jacket on the back of her chair and walks slowly to the bed, trying not to wake up Jamie. She forces back down the guilty feeling rising up as she lies next to him, because she's got no reason to feel guilty. Towards anybody.

#

With her luck he's going to make a joke as soon as he sees her, she thinks trying to gain some control.

Bonnie holds her breath as she waits for the Salvatore's mansion front door to open up and then releases it as soon as she fixes her eyes onto Stefan's gentle gaze.

"Hey there," he greets her with a smile, opening the door wider as he keeps his other hand in the pocket of his jeans.

"Hey there yourself," she replies, following him inside.

"Very punctual," he comments walking in the kitchen.

"That's one of my most seductive traits," she explains in a sarcastic tone.

"I don't mean to offend you in any way Bonnie, but I think you have no idea about the many things that are seductive about you," he says casually, like he's talking about the weather, "Coffee?"

It takes her a moment to metabolize his words. She's sure he has no intent other than being honest - because he's Stefan – but his words hit her all the same. Simply because Stefan doesn't say things he doesn't think. And so after being dumped for a ghost and kissed out of spite for the rejection of another girl, someone tells her she's desirable and it feels good.

"Yes, thanks," she answers trying not to turn red.

It's so unnerving really – she's a powerful witch that every now and then dies on convenience to set an original on the wrong track and she blushes when a guy notices her existence. She's just so glad about the color of her skin because otherwise everyone would know.

And Damon would give her hell about it.

Bonnie looks around her trying to catch the leather of his jacket or the nuisance of his presence but the house is tidy and tranquil and there's no trace of him. Well, she got lucky for once. Still when she smiles it feels a bit forced.

Must be the new loss they suffered. Alaric was such a support for them, and it's been barely a week since his death.

"How are things?" she asks, taking the mug Stefan's offering and holding it to her mouth with both hands.

"As good as they can be," he answers.

Bonnie just nods thinking about how Damon must have taken the blow and Stefan adds, "Damon doesn't talk about these kinds of things."

For a moment she wonders if she just telepathically conversed with him but she's pretty sure she didn't. She's almost on the point to tell him she didn't mean to inquire about Damon but then she realizes she's only being overly sensitive about this and Stefan only meant to answer her general question.

She's getting paranoid and she shouldn't be because there's no reason to. It's just that she remembers his slump shoulders the night Alaric died, when they were sitting next to each other on the humid grass without trying to rip off each other's throat, and for a few moments, Damon was not the nasty vampire she needed to keep in check, he was just Damon. If that makes any sense.

It's okay - she tells herself – this is called being compassionate. That's good. Even when it's about the older Salvatore.

"Shall we start?" Stefan asks her, breaking her thoughts.

#

Caroline laughs when Bonnie stops her from going too much into details about her previous night with Tyler. She really doesn't need to know how of an animal her boyfriend can be and in what kind of situation. She has to have gym class with the guy, for God's sake.

"We're best friends, we should share _everything_ with each other," Caroline tells her.

"You're not this eager to share when it's about your skirts," Bonnie reminds her, but her friend just ignores her statement.

"I think we should put this to a vote," she declares, turning towards Elena when she doesn't get an answer.

"Earth to Elena," she says waving her hand in front of her.

"Oh, sorry," the girl looks startled and she smiles as an apology.

"You've been distracted all day, I feel very neglected," Caroline protests hugging a cushion on the couch, "What's distracting you? Come on, you can tell us."

"Damon," she answers with an apologetic face, "I don't see him much lately and I'm a bit worried about him."

"I think we all know why none of us has seen much of him lately," she says, "You didn't tell us what exactly happened on your last road trip but considering who's been your date to the ball, we can take a wild guess."

Elena lowers her head and Bonnie swallows something that's suddenly stuck in her throat.

Ignoring Damon's very existence has been one of her goals for the week, along with getting new curtains for her bedroom. She's been to the mansion three times in the last ten days and Damon was never around. He's been probably licking his wounds somewhere, thinking of Alaric and Elena, and she supposes it's okay as long as he's not taking drastic measures to lessen his pain. Like breaking someone's neck.

"He told me that he knows I'll never choose him," she answers weakly, "That I hurt him. Loving me hurts him," she adds. And it's quite a simple way to put it but it's true; and Bonnie smiles sadly thinking she knows what that feels like. She knows what's it's like to be in second place. She knows what's it like to love someone with all your heart but in the end, it means nothing. Bottom line, Damon's actions were dictated by rejection, and it's understandable, and of course it's not like she was going to reserve the church and write banns yet it hurts just a little bit to hear it like this. To have her friend – her lovers magnet friend – tell her that the kiss that made her restless was just some kind of surrogate.

It's not that great to be _always_ right.

"He loves you very much," she forces herself to tell Elena, because she needs to recognize it herself.

"But I don't deserve it," Elena tells her, anxiously.

"Of course you do," Bonnie answers her, with a hug, "You deserve all the love in the world," and she doesn't say that she thinks that maybe she doesn't. Because this is not about her. Truthfully it's never about her, and she feels so petty and selfish having these thoughts that she needs to give her all to make up for this.

Caroline hugs them both as Elena tells them "You're the best friends in the world."

#

"Did she notice you yet?" Stefan asks him as Damon drinks his bourbon, sprawled on the couch. He didn't openly admit that he's following Bonnie around, that he looks at her from afar, but Stefan knows.

Damon looks at him like he's deciding if it's of any use to deny.

"I'm the king of the stalkers," he answers giving him a dirty look, like the question offended him.

"The fact that you pride yourself about it makes me worry," Stefan tells him back.

"That brooding forehead requires motivation, brother. You'd lose that little appeal you have without it. Luckily for you, you've got me," he piques with false good mood.

Stefan sits on the couch, nodding with a grin, and then hazards an observation, "I've never seen you giving up on anything before."

His brother takes a gulp of his drink, emptying his glass, "I'm protecting her the only way I can," he says, with a tense voice, "She fights me on every little thing, if she had me around she'd probably just kill herself and that would spoil the program, wouldn't it?"

"But she came to the dance with you, it must count for something."

"Sure it does. It means she would tear off her own arm if it meant to save Elena or stranger number twelve from death or an ingrown nail. That's why she accepted to go with me."

"Well, with a little planning I suppose we can arrange one catastrophe per day," Stefan jokes, "It's not that far from our standards, after all."

"I was just thinking the same," Damon replies with a bitter grin.

There's no need to explain how painful this is becoming for Damon. With every passing day, with every moment diverging from the past he shared with her, she's getting more and more distant from him; so alive and so eager to launch herself into the things that come natural to those of her age. Things like school events and clumsy boys and first times. Things that do not belong to him.

He followed her on her second date with Jamie at the Mystic Grill. He watched him take her hand on the wood table, he saw her smile and lower her eyes to hide what probably was a brilliant excitement. After that he waited outside, in a dark corner, like every proper maniac would so that he could avoid their first kiss and her happiness at the attention of someone else.

He followed her on her on her route between home and school. He watched her get ready for her third date, and the fourth one because he needs to make sure fate is not planning a new kick on him, and he's going to torture himself like this until she's safely passed her eighteen birthday.

And then he will pray for time to do what she promised it would. Even if he knows better.

#

Sometimes when she's with Stefan, Damon takes a break because his brother is with her and he will do anything to protect her. Sometimes Damon stays on a branch of a tree in the form of a crow and just watches her.

Today he has no strength to stay away from her nor the heart to watch her, so he keeps himself at the first floor and feeds himself a little lie. He imagines her back at living into his house. He imagines they are still what they were, whatever that was, and that she'll fall asleep against his shoulder that night.

He can physically feel his heart sink a bit into his chest.

He's tired of all the thinking and the lying and he sits at his piano like he can escape from all of this with a bunch of notes. Only, Bonnie is everywhere, and what will never come is too good to run from. That's why he plays the song she loved the most.

Damon realizes it only after the first thirty seconds, as his hands move on their own and his smile is just a wince of pain. He grit his teeth to not cry out, because he _hopes_ so much that the world will remember what it was, what could have been, because he wants so much for her to take one step forward, just _one._

For her to open the door that keeps him locked out to her.

As the melody decreases in the middle of the song, he hears the door opening. He tries his best not to hope against all odds, and when he sees her, wary and beautiful, he almost loses his tempo. The song flows back to his hands, to the air of the room and he keeps his eyes on her. His face unreadable, her body tense.

He looks back at the keyboard and feels her moving towards the piano, stopping two steps away. It's not close enough, but he'll take anything he can get. The crumbles will get him going for months. So refreshing, isn't it? But it doesn't matter how pathetic it can look. It doesn't matter as long as he can have a little of that warmth she shared with him when she poured him a drink, when she cooked with him in the kitchen and he would tease her a little.

"I was downstairs, and I heard the music…" she explains, nervously, like she caught him doing something terrible. Somehow it's true. She caught him doing yet again something she _hoped_ he was not capable of. Like looking at her straight in the eyes, bare and honest. Like him admitting he _needs_ her. Like him moving her to the core with a kiss. Even if it was somehow false and it meant anything to any of them.

"I don't usually have an audience," he says, "But it's okay for you to stay," he rushes to say when he sees her taking a step back.

Bonnie looks unsure about what to do; it's an endearing look on her because she's usually so firm, so strong, like she always knows what's best.

"You are the first I played this song for," _and the only one_, he thinks, "Was it good?"

"I can't tell. I don't know the original," she says, stiff, "But… it was touching," she adds trying to loosen her posture.

"Then I'm satisfied," he says moving his slender fingers on the keys in a little reprise.

"It's a song about an unrequited love," he explains raising his eyes on her, trying to lure her to the music, and to him.

"Yeah?" she asks, intrigued, eyes dancing on him.  
"The song written for the music is in dialect of Apulia. The forgotten lover talks to the wind and tells it to let the girl he loves sleep because she can't hear his heart anymore. He begs the wind to let him go mad because she can't love him…"

"But if she truly loved him at some point, maybe that love can grow back again…" she says, making him fix his eyes on her,.

She told him to let go the night Alaric died, and she's telling him to hold on now. And in both occasions she didn't know what she was really doing to his heart. But his heart, it's so easy to please; it will do just about anything for the ghost of a chance.

It feels almost violent the way he looks at her but before she can recognize his emotion or her own fear of it, he turns his eyes again.

"I thought you were practicing your mojo with my little brother," he says, casually.

"I was but he had to leave. He didn't explain me why, he just told me to wait because he was going to come back soon."

"That sounds strange," he says, thinking aloud.

"He probably just forgot about a previous arrangement," she says, trying to not pull Elena in the conversation. Damon doesn't look like he's eager to take another blow. It doesn't take a big leap of imagination to guess that the song probably reminds him of Elena, "As soon as you started playing the song he remembered something."

Damon shakes his head, realizing Stefan did it on purpose to leave them alone, to procure him a chance, probably remembering the time he caught them in this same room, sitting on the piano stool.

"Then I must keep you entertained until his return," he proposes, "Or I will never hear the end of it."

"I don't think I should-"

"I'll send you an official invitation if you want, but it would be a lot more practical if you just stayed," he says, reasonably, "Stefan told you he'll be back soon," he reminds her.

"I come in peace," he insists, "And I'm going to shut up now and not add anything dirty to that," he says with a wink.

Bonnie shakes her head and tries to hold back a smile. All he gets is one corner of her plump mouth going up and it's more than he could hope for lately.

#

After that afternoon she stops coming to the mansion. Maybe she's busy with school, Stefan suggests. Maybe he's overdone it again.

Or maybe – he thinks watching her sit in his car parked outside her house – she's just too anxious to spend all her free time with Jerry boy. He flies in circles above the poor excuse for a car and then goes back to his house.

Today he can't take the sight of the happy couple. What could ever happen to her in the afternoon show at the local cinema? Aside from suicide induced by a new movie based on a Nicholas Spark's book where there's always one of the two star-crossed lovers who ends up dying painfully.

That is of course, if they are going to watch the movie at all, since the theater is one of the most popular spots to make out in. But he doesn't need to think of that. He needs to avoid thinking, and he's always been good at that.

Drink, fuck, party. And he does that. He starts by drinking, and once the bottles in the house are empty he goes to the Mystic Grill where he orders another drink and picks up a girl. All it takes him is a smile and a compliment and the brunette is all wrapped around his fingers.

But her skin is too white and this feels wrong so he just compels her to go away because he can't bother to explain to her or himself why she's not up against a wall with her underwear around her ankles.

He's not going to be celibate for long, it's just that he needs to keep Bonnie alive right now and he's going to do that.

The show is over when he gets to the theater and he flies over the streets looking for Jerry-boy's car. He stops on a signal to watch them pass by, driving behind a camion that transports wood poles. The boy drives slowly and turns his head towards her to reach out one hand and place his palm on her knee, Damon guesses.

_Blue jeans, white shirt  
Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn_

At least he drives safely, keeping the distances; it turns out to be very important when the driver of the camion hits the brakes when an animal cuts across his path. However, the relief is short-lived because one of the ropes holding the poles comes off and two poles slip from the pile. One ends up falling short on the hood, the other one aims directly at the windshield, on the side of the passenger.

Bonnie does not realize what's happening until it is too late.

_It was like, James Dean, for sure  
You're so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer_

The pole breaking through the glass is dripping with blood but it doesn't touch her. Damon barely got there in time to fly in front of her before the pole ran through him.

"Fuck!" he hears Jamie screaming and she keeps her eyes on the drops of blood falling on her dress. It takes her a moment to get out of the car, without closing the door to not make the pole move again, and get in front of it to check Damon's conditions.

"What the hell…!" Jamie has both his hands on his head but Bonnie can't look at him right now. The pole is sank into Damon's chest and she can guess the hole is as large as her hand, and it's right next to his heart. One wrong movement and he'll be dust on the windshield of Jamie's car. The thought should be appealing but it's not. It's _really _not.

She has trouble breathing normally.

"Why do you have this tendency to do the most stupid things?" she bursts, angry at him for putting her into such a situation.

"Later?" he asks, with an effort, trying to postpone their little spat adding, "Busy not dying."  
They both know he's going to if they don't take out that pole from his chest.  
"What are we going to do?" Jamie asks.

"I need to take it out," Bonnie explains to Damon, getting closer, but as soon as she reaches out her hands she realizes the angulation in which the poles is plunged in is way too dangerous, "I'm going to kill you!" she says, withdrawing her hands. It's something he heard from her many times, but never with such a panicked voice.

_You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop  
But you fit me better than my favorite sweater and I know  
That love is mean, and love hurts  
But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby_

It almost makes it worth dying.

"Only words," he says with a pained grin.

"How can you even joke right now?" she asks, tempted to take him out of his misery with her own hands.

Damon chokes on his blood, the pole trembles so slightly and very threatening. She closes her fists in the air, trying to will the pole to still and he fixes his blue gaze on her.

"Okay," he says, gritting his teeth. She can't understand if he's trying to encourage her to take it out telling her that everything will be okay or trying to reassure her that his condition is better than what it actually looks like. In both cases she's not ready. She's not ready to do this, she's not ready for him to be kind like this.

"_Okay_," he repeats, doing his best to not wince in pain.

"…Okay," she says, raising one hand to try and use magic.

The words almost trip on her tongue and her forehead is covered in perspiration. The chanting last for less than thirty seconds but it feels like an age to her.

Once the pole is out Damon just rolls off the windshield to the ground and he's barely got any strength to cry out in pain.

Bonnie kneels next to him trying to help him up but he's heavy and weak and his vision is blurred. When she talks to him, telling him "I need to take you home," and "Can you stand," and "Do you hear me," his only answer is to say her name once. Then all his strength seems consumed and all he can do is follow her movements with his eyes.

"You need blood," she says.

"Home," he says, "Got blood home," he explains the best he can.

"You can't possibly wait that long," she says, reaching to pick from the concrete a piece of glass to cut her palm open.

"You can't-"

"Out of all the moments, you had to pick this one to be the gentleman?" she asks, angry, still high from the adrenaline, "Now drink!" she says covering his mouth with her wounded hand.

The first thing she feels is how cool his lips are, then the touch of his tongue. It makes her think to the night when he kissed her. She shakes her head to dismiss the thought immediately. But as she goes back to the situation, to Damon's mouth sucking on her palm, she instinctively draws her legs together to stop that tingling feeling from running down in between them, and failing. Miserably.

She turns her head to avoid his eyes fixed on her; at least the loss of blood will prevent her from blushing. This is the only consolation she can find right now, while this situation is getting out of hand. There's something very sexual about this, and Jamie is watching completely oblivious to it all.

"Go check on the driver," she tells him, to keep her mind to give in to the pleasure and just do something about this awkward situation.

_I will love you till the end of time  
I would wait a million years  
Promise you'll remember that you're mine  
Baby can you see through the tears?_

She doesn't wants to feel this way, but she does. And the way he looks at her it only makes it worse, because he looks hungry, but of a hunger that goes beyond blood. It's an ancestral need she feels reverberating through her whole being, and when he's done feeding it's not the blood loss that make her knees unsteady.

Yet she ignores it all – she's so good at ignoring things: her fears, her need, kisses that turn her vision upside-down, most of all Damon – and helps him standing.

Bonnie can feel him pressed against her side, hot because of her blood into his system. There's something almost fascinating in the concept but she won't indulge in that thought.  
She helps him sit on the car's seat and because he's heavy she falls on him, with her hands on his shoulders; his hands fly to her sides to steady her and yet he barely makes a move to help her. She supposes it's because he's still too weak.

A part of her accuses her of lingering in his touch, because it takes her a moment too long to straighten up and take a step back.

"I'm going to call Stefan," she says once there's some distance between them.

He doesn't say a word, and it unnerves her more. She wants for them to throw insults at each other, at him to declare to the world his love for Elena, she wants for herself to feel for Jamie what she cannot bring herself to. But he just keeps on looking at her with that naked need and her skin feels sensitive even if only her own clothes are touching her.

"Something happened," she says once Stefan has answered the phone.

_Something happened_, she fears, and she doesn't know how to undo it.

_Love you more than those bitches before  
Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember  
I will love you till the end of time_

#

**Note:** It will be Christmas in a few days, so I wanted to give you this chapter as my personal, very modest gift to all of you. I wish for all of us to have our prayers answered and our hearts healed. Merry Christmas.

**Note 2: **The song used in this chapter is the well-known "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Rey. See you next year.


	34. Chapter 34

They've been lucky. The driver was too busy reassuring his own scared co-driver to take notice of the mess that had been taking place just behind his vehicle; then later Jamie distracted him talking about the insurance info to give Bonnie enough time to patch up Damon.

When the man walks up to them to check on their conditions he gets a scare watching the hole in the windshield and the poles on the ground, but Bonnie erased any trace of blood on them and so he calms himself down fast.

"Does your friend need help?" he asks when he sees the bloody, tore shirt.

She bites the inside of her mouth realizing she forgot to fix that too but Damon reassures him with a grin "Just a scratch caused by the glass, nothing serious. I don't even need stitches," he says, shrugging.

The wound has almost healed and he hopes he'll not ask to check for himself because he doesn't know if he's strong enough to compel him right now, so he tries to redirect his attention elsewhere.

"My lovely friend here wounded her hand, though" he says, taking Bonnie's hand with both of his. She cannot pull away without causing an unnecessary scene so she just stays still, settling for a dirty look.

"I've got a first aid kit on my camion," the man just jumps at the occasion to be useful, probably feeling guilty over what happened, and rapidly walks away.

"What are you doing?" she probes keeping her voice low.

"Sitting?" he asks back, avoiding a serious answer. What really can he say after all? I'm following you around to save your life hoping that in a few years from now I'll get to gain at least a pat on the head?

"You know what I mean!" she insists but the driver is running back to them before they can finish their conversation, holding the open kit box. Damon gets out of the car, taking an unsteady step. Bonnie is instinctively beside him to support him and he grins down at her as he takes a piece of cotton lint, and leaning back against the hood, uses it to tampon her wound as his other hand keeps her palm open towards the sky.

He's so slow and careful in his action that she wants to scream in frustration. The light touch he uses feels too tender and she can't stand it.

She's almost jubilant when the driver offers to bandage her hand, so that Damon won't have to; even more so when Stefan arrives to take Damon away.

He looks at her through the glass window as he sits in the passenger seat, and she turns her eyes on Jamie, fruitlessly trying to break the connection. A part of her can feel the blue stare on her skin even long after he's gone.

As she lets herself fall on her bed, she swears at her bad luck, remembering the look Jamie had on his face when they parted that night.

Like he was expecting for it to be all over between them. She didn't say the words, and he mostly spoke about her needing to take her time to absorb that night's events, but it was obvious he was the one who could not wrap his head around it.

Probably not the part where a pole almost ran through them like a skewer, but the part where a supernatural creature shields them with his own body and then walks away like nothing happened. He probably felt out of place, embarrassed by his humanity, which can feel like a limit sometimes. He should know he doesn't need to prove himself, that Damon is not competing for her heart, and she should have told him. But it's not easy to say to the boy you're dating, that hardly anybody knows you're even alive; that she is a magical tool devoted to the safety of her best friend and anyone who may need her.

_So are you turning around your mind,__  
__do you think the sun won't shine this time__  
__are you breathing only half of the air__  
__are you giving only half of a chance_

What's worse about this is that thinking about not seeing him anymore doesn't hurt her that much, not the way it should. She's sorry they're not going to talk about their routine anymore, sorry that she's not going to keep one section of her life insanity-free, sorry to not have any more dates to wait for during the week. But that's all, and it seems too little.

Elena seemed to walk around unbalanced when she decided to stop seeing Stefan once she found out he was a vampire. Bonnie's only reason of sorrow is her complete lack of sorrow.

She's deluded herself and deceived Jamie and she doesn't know what is worse.

Bonnie takes a shower, changes into her shorts and t-shirt and slips under the sheets huddling up like she could hide from the world.

When she opens her eyes again the sheets are gone and she straightens her legs to see if they're at least still on the bed. Nope. Just her luck.

Jeremy's voice arrives from behind her door and when he opens it she's relieved, because someone cared enough to check on her. It doesn't matter if he practically broke into her house, that's a detail she can close an eye on.

"Hey there, stranger," he greets her gently, sitting next to her and then lying on the side, so that they can look in each other's eyes.

"Hey yourself," she greets him back, with a lazy smile. She's tempted to hold her arms around her broad shoulders and hide her face into his chest, like a baby or a fine temptress.

"I was worried, but I see you're alright," he says, almost clumsy, "Sorry about the interruption."

"What inter-"

Her smile falls as she hears a moan and she rolls on the bed to face the other side, which is occupied by Damon and herself. He's sitting with his back against the pillows, she has her back against his chest, and they're both naked as he hugs her from behind using one arm. They're playing.

She has one hand open and he touches her palm with the tip of his finger while she must try and trap it in her tiny hand.

_Don't you wanna shake because you love__  
__cry because you care__  
__feel 'cause you're alive__  
__sleep because you're tired_

He's too fast and she can't win, and she makes a childish noise, stirring against him but never trying to free herself from his hold.

"Stop!" Bonnie says watching herself, so shameless in Damon's arms but she can't hear her. He's the one to answer, but to her other self.

"You stop," he says, "You're trying to distract me with this low and very effective tactic of yours," he explains kissing her earlobe and then her shoulder. Her other self giggles and her eyelashes tremble from pleasure.

"Damon, please," Bonnie is almost panicking.

"What, song bird?" Damon asks, huskily, as her other self turns her head towards him.

Bonnie turns to Jeremy, holding to his shirt like she's about to fall down a cliff. She can hear Damon's voice behind her and she tries her best to shut him off.

"Help me!" she almost screams to the boy's face "Jer, help me."

"Sure, do you want me to carry your books?" he asks nicely, like everything is normal.

"I don't want this to happen. I don't, please, I don't," she begs but Jeremy is so calm and just looks over her shoulder.

"it's happening already," he says and she turns to see Damon and herself kissing and smiling against each other's mouth as he cups her breast with one hand, holding her chin up withthe other, and she leans into his touch, caressing his thighs with her palms in long strokes.

_Make heaven, heaven out of hell now..._

"It's been happening for a while now," Jeremy adds.

She covers her mouth with both hands but her voice comes out from the other's mouth. And the sounds she makes are so happy.

The kind of happiness that she never knew. And it scares her terribly.

#

In the morning, the memory of her dream is fuzzy, and her instinct tells her to not poke at it, to let it go.

She's not one to run away and yet she wants to enjoy that warm feeling she got when she opened her eyes without taking the risk to shatter a perfectly good moment just because she went digging into something, robbing it of any sense of magic.

"Hey there, stranger," Jeremy's voice startles her and bits of images come back to her in a rush.

She smiles tentatively to him and takes his arm walking through the school's hallway. His voice can't drown out her own happy laughter or Damon's voice when he's calling her song bird and murmuring to her _can I kiss you if I let you win?_

"Is this guy that good?" Jeremy asks her waving his hand in front of her.

"What?" she asks, nervously.

"I was talking to you but you didn't listen to a single word," he says, trying to keep disappointment out of his voice, "You must really like Jamie a lot."

"It's not-" she's confused, because she found herself into this conversation and she can't guess why he's asking about that, "We kind of... broke up," she adds, when he stares at her like he cares more than he lets on.

"I'm sorry for him," he says, "In just a few days he'll realize what he really lost and he will regret it for the rest of his life," he adds making her heart speed up.

It's like he's telling her she can still have everything she wants. Maybe it's not completely right, but it's not like she's jumping from one bed to another. She barely exchanged a few tepid kisses with Jamie, whereas she has history with Jeremy. And he feels so safe, so normal. And he wants her back - this means she's not wrong, she does have something to offer and he realizes that. She can smile all she wants and tell everybody that she's fine but the truth is, she's always doubted her own value and her attractiveness because if a ghost could please her boyfriend better than she can maybe it wasn't entirely his fault. Maybe something was wrong with her; maybe she was too cold, too boring, and not pretty enough and now that weight is being lifted off her.

Bonnie smiles up at him, and he takes her books from her hands to walk her to class.

"Maybe tonight we can make a toast to the poor guy, wish him luck, you know," he suggests, not-so-subtly asking her out, "What do you say?"

"Why not," she answers with a nod and a flattered smile.

#

She's brushing her long curls when, looking at herself in the mirror, she decides to change her clothes. She wore a shirt she knows Jeremy likes, because that's her; she's eager to please, eager to feel worth of someone's love, but she needs to change now. She doesn't want to try this hard, she wants someone who will love her in her worst state, whom will be attracted to her while she wears some worn old thing and she's not even wearing makeup. Bonnie thinks she needs to demand this for herself, before she even forgets how to.

She can do this; she's not even nervous about the date. It's not their first, after all, so it's quite understandable. All she knows right now is that Jeremy asking her out made her feel good about herself once again and that the fact that they didn't work out the first time doesn't mean they won't now.

Oh, she was so nervous, so thrilled the first time Jeremy kissed her. It was a giant leap of faith for her, and the fall that came after almost made her regret it in the first place. Almost. Still, she'd give anything to have that feeling back, that short and yet amazing shiver that ran through her.

Jeremy is kind, attentive and quite handsome. His shoulders and arms got much more muscular lately, and he looks as hard as nails. He's got the kind of body that fits a dirty dream.

And in this mess, which she simply calls her life, she needs love and hope and fun, and maybe this thing with Jeremy can provide it. She can do this and live in the moment with him without letting that dreamy part of her wish for anything more than what this is; a simple date with someone who used to make her insecure heart speed up.

But first she needs to call off her appointment with Stefan. She could easily do both things but she doesn't feel like it. A part of her - which she's careful not to listen to - fears that if she goes to the Salvatore's boarding house, Damon will find a way to screw this up for her again, that he will say or do something to make her question her reasons, or that she'll feel that shiver she's so hungry for. Or maybe worse, maybe he won't be around and a tiny, bitter part of her will be disappointed by his absence and his indifference to her.

#

Stefan sees his brother's expression falter as he opens the front door before he can, and he sees Elena instead of Bonnie. It's a sight he's still not completely used to, because he worshipped the ground Elena walked upon. He was ready to wait around for his first wrong move, like a hyena ready to attack a carcass, and now he can barely hide his disappointment because she is there and Bonnie is not.

"Hi Damon," she says with a smile.

Damon smiles back, gritting his teeth, "Come in," he says, grateful when Stefan walks past him to kiss her.

It takes him a moment to accept the fact that Bonnie is not in sight and closes the door and Elena notices it.

"Were you waiting for someone?" she asks, curious.

"Glinda was supposed to pass by to spend some quality time with your boyfriend," he says, "how fortunate that you're not jealous that a beautiful girl, who happens to be a witch, spends her afternoons using your boyfriend's body to try her moves."

Elena gives him a dirty look - well, she at least tries.

"Why do you feel the need to make everything into something dirty?"

"Because it's fun."

It escapes her that Damon called Bonnie beautiful and is implying her to be sexy. However, in her subconscious something nags at her all the same; a general feeling of uneasiness, which she can push back when she feels Stefan's hand in hers.

"Well, you'll have to find another way to have your fun," she replies, "I trust them."

"About that," Stefan says, cutting in with a grave tone, "Bonnie is not coming today. She called me to cancel."

"I think she's nervous," Elena says with a conspiratorial smile turning towards Stefan.

"About what?" Damon inquires.

"She has a date tonight. With my brother," she sounds almost giddy about that, even if there was a time when she was not all that happy about it.

"What happened to Jerry?" he asks confused and irritated.

"They broke up yesterday,"

"Really?" he asks, biting back his question, was she that eager to go back to Lover boy? "Such a lovely couple," Damon lies casually.

Jamie was an obstruction, a bothersome dummy, and even if she liked him, he could still count on a certain amount of time to surpass him in her affections, but with Jeremy it's a different story. She loved Jeremy, maybe she still does, and if he kills him, the boy will not even have the decency to stay dead.

Damon can't help but remember how preoccupied with his love life she was when she lived under his roof, that the night they made love he had proposed that fake date just to lift her spirit because Jeremy was probably going out with another girl that night and she felt left behind. He had wanted to bite off his hand just a few days before Bonnie's death because he kept on patting her knee and he hated the sight of it.

It's like they're on a race to win Bonnie's heart and Jeremy is allowed to start three steps behind the finish line while he's at the starting point.

All the hope he had because the moments they shared after the accident seem to come home to roost, mocking him. Jeremy is good to the bone, a pretty boy with large shouldersthat girls notice, while he himself is tainted and troublesome, and she's the one girl in the world who won't fall for the bad boy charm.

#

Damon is the type of person who throws themselves into things; acts before thinking. So Stefan is not going to tell him that he thinks he was able to ignite something within Bonnie, because he'd ruin everything and it'll lead up to some reckless impulse that would end with him being roasted. But when Damon tells him he wants to buy him a drink at the Mystic Grill he accepts even if there's no doubt whatsoever that he only wants to hamper her date with his sole presence; he's going to go there all the same, so it's better if he's there to put some sense into him when the moment calls for it. Maybe he can even observe Bonnie to guess her feelings.

She was clearly affected the night before, when she called him so that he could take Damon away. He saw her avoid his brother's gaze like it could burn her - she, who's never afraid of anything, was not able to meet his eyes. He could see it in her body language, in her forced calm expression. He doesn't exactly know what happened the afternoon he left them alone in the house, but when he got back, Damon was almost amiable towards him so he's sure he made some progress. If his conclusion was correct, then the fact that she didn't show up anymore from that day could mean that she was scared of the change in their relationship, in her feelings. He had cautiously taken that for a good sign, even if he didn't share his impression with Damon to not raise his hopes.

Now she's going back to Jeremy. And that could be because she still loves him, or because she doesn't.

#

One second before her eyes meet his silhouette walking into the Grill she can feel the shift in the air. It's so heavy that her stomach drops, like gravity hits her body but her heart was untouched by it, and she feels a brief, yet, intense pull. He even has the nerve to smile at her, the jerk. Bonnie smiles to Jeremy to cover up the fact that she couldn't listen to his words, and her mouth feels so dry she must call for the waitress to order another drink.

She wishes so much she was twenty-one already so that she could drink alcohol. She needs it badly.

Damon and Stefan sit at the counter, so all she can see of them is their back, and yet she can feel Damon's eyes on her. She tries to ignore the feeling but it gets on her nerves so much that it sometimes distracts her. She wonders if he's looking at her through the mirror behind the counter and why.

Maybe Elena disappointed him again and he needs to take it out on her; she won't let him drag her down.

Maybe he's offended that she didn't bother to thank him for kind of saving her life the previous night; well, which still doesn't make things even.

Maybe he's thinking about the night of the 1920's dance, when they kissed in the chemistry classroom and his mouth was hard and demanding and made her feel concupiscent and warm between her thighs. Maybe he's thinking he should have found a moment to do that again and just keep it going until it was too late to think or regret.

She blinks, unable to completely free herself from that thought, from the warm feeling that radiates through her body.

Bonnie crosses her legs casually, and tries not to flinch when Jeremy leans into her to whisper, "I'm getting redundant, I know, but you're so beautiful tonight."

She holds her breath and thanks him with as much sincerity as she can master. It would be easier if he could be her only thought, but part of her knows he's not. Damon's eyes on her feels almost heavy and she openly turns towards him to see if he's looking at her. His head is turned over his shoulder and his look is hard, like an accusation. She's outraged by his attitude, but above all, by her ease at being affected.

Leaving the Grill, one hour later, is a relief. Her steps are hurried, almost like she's running from something.

Jeremy holds her to his side as they walk to the car and she breathes in his smell, looking for a reassurance, and waiting for the spark to ignite. She didn't think it'll end this way but when he parks the car in front of her house, their parting words are broken by kisses and traveling hands.

They make out in the half-light of the car's compartment and even if it's fun and kind of hot there's something still missing. Like a part of her, deep into her core, is still asleep and Jeremy's mouth won't wake it up. And she thinks that maybe she's not ready to trust him yet again. That she's not ready to jump into this.

She's grateful that he stops just before she's about to ask him; she's grateful for the way he smiles at her, for the way he says her name and for the turns in circles he makes to ask her out again, like he wants her to say yes so badly and he's so scared that she won't that he can't bring himself to stop talking long enough for her to give him her answer.

Bonnie says yes. _Yes, I'd like to._

When she changes into her night clothes she's glad she gave this another chance. She thinks it's worth it, and when she slips under the sheets and closes her eyes she thinks everything is like it was supposed to be. It's so fast the way she falls into sleep and into his arms.

He keeps one arm around her waist so that their bodies are pressed together; his forehead is against hers as he murmurs "Come on, Bonnie" while one of his hands is between her legs. His fingers work in and out of her skillfully that she can't concentrate enough to keep her breath from breaking. She needs to move, to take part in the rhythm and sounds he produces playing with her nerves like she's a fine instrument but her muscles are frozen.

Damon kisses her softly, brushing his lips against her and she's so overcome that she bites his lower lip. His fingers lose their tempo for a moment and it's even more erotic.

"Little bird," he whispers against her mouth, "Let go." And she wants to, so badly. She feels like she's on the verge of a cliff, ready to explode and shine, ready to be enveloped into the climax that's burning every inch of her. She's almost there, almost there, but cannot reach it.

"Let go."

The effort her body makes to have an orgasm wakes her up.

For a moment, when she opens her eyes, every part of her is completely awake and she can still hear Damon's voice in the back of head, begging: _Little bird, let go._

_#_

**Note: **the song used in this chapter is "Heaven out of hell" by Elisa.


	35. Chapter 35

She turns to lay on her back and her hand reaches blindly for the clock on her nightstand. The trill seems to hammer in her temples for a few seconds even after she pushed the button to turn off the alarm.

She sighs in resignation as she relishes her last moments in bed; she could have slept better but she woke up in the middle of the night because of that dream, and she traps her bottom lip between her teeth as she inadvertently remembers details of no importance and hide herself from the day and her own embarrassment pulling the blanket above her head.

Her phone rings, signalling an incoming message and she slips one hand out to take the phone from the nightstand. It's Jeremy, texting her _Good morning. I can't wait to see you_, and she holds her phone to her breast, wishing she could have dreamed of him instead.

She closes her eyes, trying to recall his hands on her while they were inside his car, and his soft mouth sucking gently on her earlobe, and yet the memory of Damon's large, dark pupils as he looks down at her and pants, trying hard to please her it's more vivid than anything else. Haunting her down.

Bonnie gets up in a rush; she won't let a stupid dream ruin everything for her, she decides. She showers, and with a towel wrapped around her body she opens her closet looking for something to wear. As her eyes fall on the jacket Damon lended her the night of the ball she pushes back the impulse to wear it now, feel the texture of it on her naked skin, instead she picks a turquoise skirt and shut the door like she just trapped a monster inside.

She concentrate on making herself look presentable; there's a tiny, silly part of her scared that someone will read on her face the things she dreamed of, the things still flashing in her mind every time she lowers her defences.

Walking in the hallway she realizes that she's making a few heads turn in her direction. The first impulse is to hide; she hugs her books to her breast and lowers her eyes, but then her reason scolds her, and she rises her chin bravely. If she can face Originals and dark creatures of any sort, she can certainly face the fact that she's actually capable to attract a few specimen of the make kind.

With her head held high she notices Jeremy waiting for her, his back leaning against her locker. He turns his head meeting her eyes and he's smile fades slightly, as he raises his eyebrows, and then comes back bigger on his face.

"What?" she asks, suspicious, touching her face like she's expecting to find something that shouldn't be there - that would explain all the interest guys are showing them this morning, "There's something wrong with my face?"

"No, no," he answers shaking his head, "Actually, you look... stunning" he says, blinking. Like there's something new about her on which he can't put his finger on.

"As opposite to everyday when I look horrible, you mean?" she asks, raising her eyebrows, faking offense.

"I didn't mean that," he rushes to say, smiling when he realizes she's joking, "But there's something about you lately..."

"What kind of something?" she asks, curious and flattered.

"I have no idea. I know that I said goodnight to you yesterday and I thought to myself that it was impossible that any girl could be any more beautiful, and you barely wait the following day to prove me wrong," he says, with a light amazement in his voice, "What did you do last night to look so hot?" he asks with hoarse voice, leaning into her, with one hand placed on the locker and one at her waist.

She turns her head to the side, trying to smile as in her mind Jeremy's hands are replaced by Damon's ones, "A girl needs her beauty sleep," she says with a shrug.

"It totally worked," he says, "I didn't sleep much, instead."

Bonnie turns her eyes on him; he's so close she can see the sparse freckles on his nose.

"Too busy thinking of you," and from the way he says the words she can picture exactly what he's been thinking of.

"Yeah?" she asks; her flirtatious tone could not be more obvious. She's just decided she'll leave subtle for a time of her life when Damon Salvatore does not infests her mind.

#

But he's like an echo.

The words stop mattering, the inflection in his voice she can't remember with precision anymore; she goes from clear pictures popping up into her retinas to meaningless details her conscience fees her in whispers and spots of color. Yet Damon stays inside her mind, like a sound or a vibration. Like an echo.

Bonnie ignores him. She walks over his naked expression with her favourite boots as she leaves her locker for her next class. She swallows his nicknames and pants with a bite of her lunch as she sits in the courtyard with Jeremy and Elena. She talks over his moaned questions when a teacher asks her to recapitulate their last lesson.

She's so set on avoiding his presence in her head that she actually forgets she's supposed to endure his presence in person that afternoon because she needs to meet with Stefan to work on her powers. Her telepathic communication is still one sided, which it's inconvenient.

Her struggle cause her to be late, which she never is. Having Stefan welcoming in the house brings a sincere smile to her face, and as he leads her to the kitchen she's relived to be informed that Elena is there as well. With a little more luck Damon is not going to be there, and she'll stop feeling like she's about to fall down from a cliff. Or more probably he's going to be there, but will be too busy hanging off Elena's words to take any notice of her presence.

This last possibility clouds her, but she chooses to deny that even to herself. This is not the moment nor the place for some soul-searching.

"Bonnie, come in," Elena greets her with a smile, pushing a long strand of hair behind her ear, "We were just taking a coffee."

"I'm going to my room to take the books you wanted," Stefan tells Elena, "I'm coming back in a minute," he adds for Bonnie.

Damon doesn't say a word; he just looks at her scanning her rapidly and grins before turning his back on her. Bonnie tries to concentrate on her friend, "I'm sorry I have to steal Stefan for a bit," she says, apologetically.

"Oh, don't be silly," Elena answers with a smile, "I'll forgive you as long as you give him back to me in one piece."

Bonnie is about to say something when Damon pushes in her hand a cup of coffee. The ceramic is white and there's 'Whatever' printed in black letters. The coffee smells good.

"With cream and sugar," he informs her, before turning his back again to go and sit on a chair.

She stares at him trying to not show her surprise, but she's not sure if her eyes are already giving her away.

"Thanks," she says with some effort. Her mouth is suddenly dry at the thought that he knows something so stupid like the way she likes her coffee and she sips on it to try and swallow her reluctant surprise.

"I'll try not to kill him. Again." Bonnie tells Elena, trying to sound cheerful.

"Otherwise," Damon says, cutting into their conversation, "I know for a fact that she gives great mouth to mouth resuscitation. Well, I wasn't unconscious but she brought back to life more than one part of my anatomy, I must say. I see dying as a fair exchange for that," he explains calmly, taking another sip of his drink.

He knows he did a wrong move the moment he sees the color draining from Bonnie's face, but it's too late now to take it back. And even if it wasn't he wouldn't anyway.

It's a petty reaction, he knows, but he's angry at her for dating Jeremy again - she made him feel so close to her just to jump from one stupid boy to another without even sparing him a thought; he's angry at her for being so fucking beautiful - it's like putting a feast in front of a starving man after you tied him up like a salami, and they call him cruel. Ah!

Elena blinks repetitively as the notion sets into her brain, and yet she still wants to deny it.

"What- you're kidding, right?" she looks from him to Bonnie and then back to Damon. His eyes never leave the witch.

"You were really eager to say it, weren't you?" Bonnie asks, angry.

"Oh, you know me so well," he answers with a grin, "we must really be in sync."

"Did you-" she gasps, "did you two kissed?"

Not only she must deal with Damon behaving like an ass, but she even needs to explain to Elena something she couldn't explain herself in the first place. It's like hell opened up in the Salvatore's kitchen.

"It wasn't-" Bonnie can't find the words to explain what happened, "...a- _real kiss_," she ends weakly.

"What does that mean?" Elena asks.

"Yes, Bonnie. What does that mean? What do you mean exactly with _real kiss_?" Damon asks, making sure to frown in confusion and look at her like he's mocking her, "Because I clearly remember some remarkable tongue action," he explains, "Rush of blood, dilated pupils, swelled lips..." he lists sounding almost clinical, "all signs of an honest-to-God kiss. But I recall we were just discussing your peculiar idea of real when it happened, so maybe that's the problem."

"I can't believe it," Elena says, looking at him disconcerted.

"Why are you doing this?" Bonnie asks him.

"Why not?" he asks back, "It happened, I don't see any reason to hide it," or forget it, really, because it seems like the thing she can do better is forgetting him, "It's not like we have some dirty affair."

"Yes. In fact we have _nothing_!" she spells him like he's an idiot unable to understand the simplest things.

"Did you do it to make me jealous?" Elena asks, "It's some sort of sick revenge against me? Because I picked Stefan over you?"

Damon grimaces, "What? No!" he says, "Have you hit your head?" he asks, baffled that she can even think this is actually about her and not Bonnie. Does he even exist in her eyes for something else aside from worshiping her?

"Then what reason could you _possibly_ have?" Elena asks again, but he doesn't listen. He sees Bonnie putting down her mug precariously on the edge of the table, turning her back and leaving and he just runs after her "Bonnie, wait!", bumping into Stefan.

From inside the kitchen he hears the sound of her mug falling down and breaking into pieces.

When he reaches her car, knocking insistently on the glass of her window she almost runs over him to get away. She doesn't even raise her eyes to look at him.

#

Of course for Elena there's no way that kiss could be about him actually wanting her even just for the fraction of a second. Not that she actually wants him to want her - even if fragments of her recent dreams come back to bite her in the ass - but it's humiliating to be so underestimated, to know that even her own best friend thinks that she is not worthy of an homicidal vampire. But can she really blame her? She has always lacked self-esteem when it comes to boys, let alone immortal creatures that could have just about anything they wanted.

The his voice comes from outside. She sees him looking down from behind the window of her bedroom.

"Bonnie," he says, pressing his forehead against her front door, "Bonnie, come' on."

He knocks again, using the side of his fist and feeling ridiculous.

"Open the damn door, Bonnie, _now_!" he says, trying to not sound like he's ordering her around. He supposes he's failing. If she even suspect he's trying to force her to do anything she will never even come close to the fucking door, "In case I failed to make it clear I meant that as a_ please,_ of course," he lies. Her heartbeat sounds a lot closer than before and so she must be not so far from the front door.

"Okay, fine!" he yells, "I went too far, happy now?"

He can actually hear her behind the door now. The doorknob seems to move but then stops. It seems like an age before she sighs and opens the door looking at him like she's waiting for a, not even good, excuse to grill him.

"I didn't bring an olive branch, but I can actually steal a lemon one from your neighbour's garden, if you like, "he says raising a thumb over his shoulder to point at the garden. She thinks he could really do that.

"I will ignore what you just said," she informs him, stern.

"This is a sign of wisdom," he replies, nodding, playing along.

"I suspect the true wisdom would require me to close the door in your face," he's the vampire between them, but she looks like she can bite him any moment, and not in a sexual way. What a shame.

"Okay, but what is wisdom without mercy?" he asks, hoping he will actually get to say enough positive words to give her a better disposition towards him. Well, he probably should give her a vocabulary and hope for the better.

"I screwed up," he admits, stopping himself from shrugging, "which, let's be honest, is nothing new. But was that really so terrible? I'm quite sure I had some brighter moments in the past," he says with irony.

Bonnie is slightly distracted by his choice of words. Oh, if he knew the things she's been dreaming about she would die of embarrassment, and he would never, ever stop bragging about it.

"The fact that your main occupation is... _screwing up_ things doesn't mean that that's the way is supposed to be. And yes, it was that terrible!"

"The kiss itself or the fact that I spoke about it in front of Elena?" he asks, with a grin, playing with her. "Because on a scale from one to ten, with ten being the most erotic thing I ever did involving my tongue-"

"I'm done!" she says, trying to close the door, but he holds it open inserting his foot between the jamb and the door with an, "Wait- _ouch_!"

"Okay, another go," he proposes, making her sigh.

She looks at him expectantly, crossing her arms under her chest. He can see the sweet curve of her breast, as she bats her lashes with a patient look on her face. Turquoise becomes her. Well, nakedness becomes her, and suits him a lot more, but this is not the point. She's irritated and impatient and she never looked this good. But _good_ it's not the right word, Damon thinks. There's another one, right on the tip of his tongue, and he would love to find it but she's so beautiful and distracting and "delectable," he says, to himself.

"What?" she asks, frowning.

"I- mm" he clears his throat, looking for a way to say that he's sorry without actually having to say the words. Because that would be lying and he doesn't want to lie, not to her. There's no way he's going to be sorry for kissing her or for letting Elena or whoever else know about it. He wants everyone to know, so they'll stay away or, at least, they will have no excuse to whine about how bad he is when he breaks their bones one by one for touching her. If only Bonnie would not make such a biggie about a few broken bones.

"I... acknowledge that I did wrong," he admits, slowly, trying to look sincere.

She looks like she's deciding if to believe him or not.

"Let's start over," he proposes, looking hopefully at her. She's so tempted to say yes that she hates herself with a passion for a few seconds.

"From which point?" she asks, holding on to her distrust, "The point where you kill my mother or the one where you tried to humiliate me in front of my best friend?"

"I wasn't trying to do that," he protests, and she believes it. After all the humiliation came from Elena not believing that he could desire to kiss her, not from his words directly.

"And I did my best to behave lately, even if not always with the greatest results," he admits, "But I'll accept any chastisement you'll assign me, and even do some extra homework, teacher," he says with a smile.

His smile has such a kind inflection, all of sudden, and she's not equipped enough against this side of Damon Salvatore. And, after all, he did save her life, and he didn't even bragged about it. He could really pass for a good imitation of a mature person.

"Let's be friends," he says, in a rush, and the proposal almost shocks her.

Bonnie looks at him with wide eyes, and he insists, "Come on. Chances are that I'll listen to my _friend_" he empathize the word, "telling me to stop being a dick. Or at least my _friend,_" he stress it once again, his intention so obvious that she's on the point to laugh, "has a better shot then the witch I want to piss off, don't you think little bird?"

"Damon, stop-" stop calling me that, she wants to say, but she can't bring herself to, because she likes that nickname he has for her. And aren't friends allowed to have nicknames?

"Stop dragging it so much," she sighs, "One wrong move and this friend-thing is over," it seems to her that this way it sounds a lot less threatening then admitting she wants to try this. Being friends with him. And maybe her dreams will stop, who knows.

"I'll accept corporal punishments for any transgression on my part," he says, making her grimace.

"You're disgusting," she says.

He smiles.

#

When she opens the front door she finds Jeremy with a smile on his face and two dvd cases in his left hand. Which he waves for her to see.

"I'm here with _Dirty Dancing_ and _You've got mail_," he says, sounding like he's telling her he's about to jump from a tower.

"You're really giving your best shot at this, aren't you?" and there's a voice inside her head asking her why she can't do the same. She's going to invoke the fifth emendation in this.

"I try," he says, leaning into her to kiss her.

Bonnie holds to the fabric of his jacket and pulls him inside, as he kicks the door shout. She giggles and leaves him to take him something to drink.

"I was just fine," he protests, almost whining at the loss of her.

"Let me make popcorn and I'll be back right away," she yells from the kitchen.

"Double butter?" he asks, taking off his jacket to leave it on the arm of the couch.

"Think about my waist!" she reproaches him.

"Oh believe me, I think a lot about your waist!" he yells back, "And the rest of you," he sighs to himself.

Bonnie is sexy, that's not in question. If she actually knew the range of her appeal she could have a harem ready to answer to her every need, but luckily for him she's not that kind of girl. The popular ones that are always looking for something better, the ones that never find rest or love because they're too busy looking in the wrong place - like the mirror or the back seat of a car with a tattooed guy that smokes pot and talks about things he's read on the cover of books he never even opened.

He's been stupid to throw everything they had away, just like that, but now he has every intention to fix it.

He opens the dvd case and puts the disk in the player, waiting for her to come back. When she does, she carries in her hands a big bowl of popcorn and two cokes.

"Are we ready?" she asks with a smile as she sits next to him on the couch.

"I don't know, are we?" he asks back, with a voice huskier then it was supposed to be.

Bonnie blushes, turning her eyes on the TV screen, urging him to "Press play."

She's watched _Dirty Dancing_ so many times before that during most of the movie she can easily mouth their lines, and Jeremy grins as he watches her. He hates that movie, but he wants to please her so he can actually stay there with no complain.

It's like a classic movie date at the theatre; he puts his arm around her shoulder, she leans in a bit, he smells her hair and nuzzle at her ear making her turn so he can kiss her. It's simple, almost linear.

In her head this is the only possible version of the story, because this is what you do when the boy you're dating comes over with a movie he loathes and the house is empty, so she follows the script. Her brain guides her like it's following an exact scheme: put the left hand on his right shoulder, moan when he kisses your neck, then lay back on the couch and look up at him like you want him.

His hand slides under the hem of her shirt and he kisses her lips more, all the while her brain is clear and unaffected. She can hear Solomon Burke singing _Cry to me_ and she thinks she loves that scene. But she should love what she is doing now more, she reminds herself. His hand travels up to cup her breast through her bra. It's warm and nice and she concedes him a sigh.

Bonnie brushes the inside of her leg against his thigh and he moans against her.

Being so in control is almost funny; she has all the power and he doesn't know. She moans his name, because that's part of the script, and he presses his lower body against her letting her feel his erection pressing against her thigh. It's a good feeling, but she's not as aroused as she should be. To say the truth, she's probably not aroused at all.

Jeremy's hand goes down to tug at the button of her jeans and she knows what she must do now.

#

Outside the window the lightning tear the sky and the crow watching them from a branch turns its head with a sharp movement, before flying away.

#

Jeremy's hand starts slipping into her jeans and she stops it when her own, as a thunder makes her jump back.

"Wait!" she says, gasping.

His pupils are dilated, his skin is flushed and he breathes hard. There's a bit of satisfaction flowing in her, a bit of sadness because she was not really with him, and nothing more.

"I- we... I'm sorry, I can't."

"It's okay, really, I- " he clears up his voice, which sounds way to affected by her, "I understand," he says, but he thinks he would sound a lot more truthful if he didn't have a bulge on the front of his pants; that's all he can do right now to not upset her. The lights go off.

She blinks and looks over his shoulder for a moment; outside her window there's the Flood coming down, or something incredibly similar.

Jeremy turns his head over his shoulder, "The weather seems really bad."

She hugs her knees to her chest, and he presses her against his side. It's nice, and sweet but it doesn't last long. Elena calls him to ask where he is, to make sure he's fine, and he tells her he is, even if he's on the point to tear his arm away for the desire to take care of his business at the south region of his body.

Staying the night is not an option if he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of her.

#

"I thought you were at Bonnie's place" Stefan says as he watches his brother drink the last remains of a bottle of bourbon - which he remembers it was full that morning - while he sits on the couch in the dark.

"She had other plans," he informs him, resisting the urge to bite his tongue. Her plans involved an horny teen-ager that had picked a ghost over her, and a night that should have belonged to them alone. It did, in another life.

Over the sounds of the storm he can her moans and panting, his broken name on her lips mixes up with Jeremy's name and he holds his glass into his hand until it breaks and cuts his palm. Damon lowers his eyes on the little pieces falling on his lap and his brother walks towards him.

"Damon, if you need-"

"Another drink, " he says, abruptly, "I just need another drink."

Talking about feelings is not Damon's forte; usually feeling them is even less his forte, and Stefan doesn't want to press him too much, because the moment he breaks, it's likely their furniture will break too and he will still not say a word about it.

"I think there's another bottle somewhere," he says, walking towards the liquors cabinet to pick a bottle of_ Jim Beam Devil's Cut_, produced in Clermont, Kentucky.

"Thanks," Damon says, with a voice so low and tires that Stefan can't help but turn his head over his shoulder to look at his brother.

"Anything," he just says, hoping he'll believe him.

#

Two days later, she tells him she needs to take a step back; they jumped into this too soon, she says, I like you, she insists, I'm just not sure this is right, she explains, and the more she tries to make it better, the worse he feels. And all this has nothing to do with Damon - it's easy to believe that because Bonnie is not one easily fooled, and she never fell for the supernatural creature's charm; she's not the kind of girl that falls for an idea, a myth, she wants the real thing and he thinks he can give her that.

He tells her that he can wait - like teen-agers are famous for their capabilities in the waiting department; he tells her he doesn't want to pressure her - but really, the only way to not make a move at her is keeping some distance or he will become blue in the face; he says they can hang out as friend - and as he holds her hand casually he ignores her dubious eyes on him.

It's something between them and they don't tell anyone they are not actually, properly, dating - they still hang out, he still look at her like she's his favourite dessert, she still blushes.

#

A week later the night Damon and Bonnie never lived anymore; a week later the night in which Bonnie never had sex with Jeremy; a week later the night in which Damon thinks Bonnie had her first time with someone else, she is supposed to go at the Salvatore boarding house for another telepathy session.

Despite his declared friendship intents Damon never got near her after that afternoon and so he is not prepared to hear her voice; the craving of her and the absence of her so tied up together that his very flesh hurts as the sound of her washes over him.

"Damon, is that you?" she says, and he suddenly realizes just how much this whole week without her it's been unbearable for him.

It takes him a moment to answer, as she asks, "Hello?"

"Yes, I'm here little bird," he says; right here, he think, the same point he was one week ago, one month ago, three months ago. In love with her and not getting over it any time soon.

"I wanted to tell Stefan I can't come over and that we need to cancel," he wants to ask why she hasn't called him on his cell phone instead of calling home, but then again, he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

There's a male voice in the background and he frowns, "I understand," he says, stark.

"My father's home and I wanted to make something special for dinner," she explains, even if she didn't need to, lifting a weight from his stomach, "I'm in the middle of some chopping at the moment."

"You mean, someone is willingly putting a knife in your hands?" he jokes, suddenly feeling a better disposition towards this conversation.

"I will have you know that I'm actually very good with this kind of stuff," she replies, the smile is clear in her voice.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not too anxious to know the full range of things you can actually do with it. There are appendixes of my body to which I'm quite attached," he says, flirting with her.

"Don't give me any idea, Damon," she warns him.

"I'm sure I could give you a few which would be a lot more pleasurable then you chopping off the dearest parts of me."

He can hear her laughing over the phone. How pathetic is he for feeling so triumphant over something as insignificant as this? Oh, but her laugh is so bright, so good to hear. Why not indulge a little?

"Well, as sad is the fact that you'll not grace us with your witchy presence I'll pass the message to my brother," he tells her, "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow sounds good."

"Good," he says, feeling a bit like an idiot.

"Thanks, Damon," and there's a long pause before she says goodbye. During that pause he wishes for her to tell him any other word but that one.

#

Her father invites him in, just like that. He's at the phone and mouths him to come in.

Elena told him that Bonnie's car was giving her troubles and he thought that giving her a ride was as good an excuse as another, so he showed up in the later afternoon ready to offer her his services, when he heard her father speak about driving back to whatever hellish place he was before conceding his company to a daughter who practically lived alone.

Well, good for him, right? If she was alone there were more chances to get closer to her. But then again she longed so much for her father. He remembered very well the way she threw glances at her phone waiting for a call or a text from him and he didn't want her to go through that once again.

Yet, it wasn't his business, was it? And then again, when did he ever care if it wasn't?

"Close the phone," he tells the man, watching him frown in confusion.

"It's a very important call, son," he says, "You can sit. Bonnie will come down in a moment anyway."

But as he fixes his eyes into his, Damon demands him to "End the call, now."

The man blinks stupidly, as the vampire keeps on talking, slowly, "You're going to spend time with your daughter. You're going to take care of her, show her some affection," he's only been back for a day and he already wants to leave. The nerve he has!

"You won't pick any call nor you're going to leave for a week," what it is a week compared to Bonnie's happiness after all?

"What are you doing?" Bonnie's voice is already trembling from rage.

"Just my luck," he murmurs to himself as he turns around to face her.

"Just a little talk with your dad..." he lies, hoping for the better, "We were getting to know each other."

"You were compelling him," she says, "I can't believe you," and her voice sounds bitter, "I knew I couldn't trust you, I was wrong for ever thinking otherwise."

"I wasn't trying to do anything bad," he says.

"Oh no, you never want to do anything bad, you just happen to do it!"

The phone rings again, and Mr Bennett looks at it stupidly, bumbling how he can't answer the phone. Damon passes one hand in his hair, murmuring "Leave us alone, please."

"I told you, one wrong move and this friendship would be over," she says as her father leaves them.

"I only wanted you to have your father to yourself for a while, was it so bad?" he asks, angry at her for not seeing his good intentions.

"It's none of your business. I can take care of myself!" she answers, offended at the fact that he could think differently.

"But it's his job to do that! He's supposed to love you better than this!" he yells, against his better judgment. But how can she be so willing to let everyone walk all over her? He doesn't want to see her put up walls just to hide the fact that she's human. Being human is everything.

"Why do you even care?!" it's strange how angry he makes her, how open she is when she feels this way. There's no barrier high enough in this moment to hide behind in her mind.

At this point they're both yelling at each other, fuelled by all the things unsaid, by dreams she doesn't want to remember, things he can't have back again because he had to choose another path so that she could stand there and yell about how untrustworthy he is.

"Because I love you!" he burst out.

It feels like an explosion; he screams in her face, and now the cat's out of the bag so why not go down in style? "Can't you see? he asks as her eyes go wide, and takes a step back like she's been just hit by a bullet, "I'm fucking in love with you!" he spells despite his loud voice, "You are a judgy thing who can never loosen up a bit and I like it! You have the vivacity of a mummy early in the morning and I adore it," he tells her remembering their mornings together, "You could sacrifice yourself to save a good for nothing and I love you for it despite the fact that this behaviour makes me crazy!" he says, almost laughing at himself, "You can never let me win an argument and I live for them!" he admits, throwing his hands in the air, "And I'm here trying to wrap my head around the fact that you are blind to me in the best of cases!"

She doesn't even blink to his words. As he comes down from his high and she doesn't say a word.

He though having Katherine and Elena tell him that it was Stefan, that it would always be Stefan for them was bad. He was wrong. Because having her staring ahead and not seeing him, having her not utter a single word to him pouring his heart out on the floor of her kitchen is torture.

"Say something," he begs, breathless, "Just, something...", but she just stands there. Still as a statue, with the expression of someone terrorized by what they're seeing and he can just shake his head, leaving the place with rushed, long strives. Like the devil himself is going after him.

But there's no one behind him.

#

She's been trying to open up a two ways telepathic communication for weeks, and always failed. Until now. Just instead of opening up the door of her mind Damon just broke down the whole wall and images and sensations and sounds came rushing drawing her.

Bonnie is overcome, surrounded by thoughts she recognizes as Damon's. They move like leaves hit by a gust of wind and their trajectory is so irregular that she can't possibly avoid them, and every time she gets touched by one of them the memory unfolds and the feeling attached to it washes over her, until it's like a sea.

The first memories are the freshest, the newest ones. She's kissing Jeremy on her couch and the images are colorless and blurred. Something in her chest tightens. Many shots are from high places, windows or trees, she doesn't know.

And then as the next memory hits her she can feel a deep, animal want mixed to protection instinct as she holds her hand over his mouth and then again when she falls onto him.

Every image is so vivid, the emotion balling up in her stomach so strong.

And somehow they're all about _her_. Her name resounds even when the memory is about Stefan or Elena or strangers he hunted like animals down looking for a way to have her back. She can't understand, because she was never his, was she?

She sees her gravestone, feels a desperation so _annihilating_ that her whole body trembles and falls down. She's stuck inside her mind with this pain and she welcomes the hit of the next memory as something liberating. There's a sound in the background, one she knows, a song which repeats itself like a stuck recording that becomes louder when the memory is silent and fades in the back when the words are more important for him.

When she says _I'm picking you _the silence is deadly and she feels like crying.

And it's impossible to understand how can she be a virgin and yet know the feeling of Damon's member inside of her, and yet in the blurring, hot memory of that night, she can feel it; can feel her own flesh wrapped around his hardness, the _needneedneed _and the effort and the will it takes him to not let himself go, the intense desire to not have her regret this in the morning.

Her thighs press together on her own, her mind trying to will her body to not feel it. It's impossible. He is into her like her own mellow bone.

The images coming after are so stupid; her hair behind her ear, her smiles. So many of them, like he spent hours catolguing them, comparing them. Her face listening to him telling her about his abusive father, just so she could know she was not the only one alone. And then desire again. Alight or hidden under the surface, but yet it travels from her head to her blood and in every inch of her skin.

She sees her hair, her body lying down on the bed as he spoons her. The feeling of rightness. Then again jealousy, confusion, denying and _Why do you care?_

She's everywhere and he can't stand it. _You die on me and I'll kill you_. She's everywhere and he can't have enough of her._ You're not the princess, you're the witch and the witch never gets to the last page._

She's going dark and he can't let her.

And then the waves calm down, it becomes a gentle rocking, like she's floating on his emotion and it feels so warm.

Her eyes are open on the ceiling, but she can't see a single thing.

She can see _everything._

_#_

The trip left her spent on the floor and when she regains consciousness she's on her bed, with her father next to her.

"You made me so scared," he tells her, caressing her cheek. She smiles despite the tiredness and the dizzying sensation.

"I'm sorry, I slept bad lately and I guess my body rebelled," she says, trying to reassure him.

When she moves to stand up he pushes her back on the bed telling her she needs to rest and that he's going to make dinner for her for once.

Her emotions are all messed up, mixed up with Damon's but they're fading little by little. Leaving her for good, she knows. In the end only hers will stay.

_Everything has a reason_

_Everything has a start_

_Anything that ever burned had a spark_

Bonnie let her father trying to do his part, for how clumsy. She showers as he cooks and let him find her tucked under the blankets when he comes back with a plate of chicken brood. It's a bit salty but she tries to not cringe. When he tastes it himself to make sure it doesn't burn he must admit his poor skills and calls for take away. She's in the mood for Chinese.

He refuses to let her leave the bed to eat so she knows that leaving the house is out of question; she doesn't even ask.

She looks at the clock on her nightstand; once, during this night, at this very moment, Damon found her dead. Poking at that particular memory she almost feels like crying for him, for how completely devastated he was.

Bonnie waits until she's sure her father is asleep to sneak away like any other proper teen-ager. She had hours to work all the things in her mind, give the events she saw and felt a chronological order; so many things make sense now and, as she waits, part of her feels like a child counting the hours for Christmas morning to come so she can unwrap her gift.

Her knuckles are almost white when she knocks on the mansion's door with clenched fists.

She thinks she must do this before she loses her nerve or her mind, and when Damon opens the front door, holding a glass of bourbon in his hand, he looks as confused as the very first time.

"I have a vague sense of dèjà-vu," he says, looking worried.

"You're going to fix my father," she demands.

He needs a moment to absorb the fact that she's not going to scream into his face like she already did twice but that they actually moved on from that point of their story. If they have a story at all.

_Anything I ever wanted_

_Anything I ever needed_

_Always seemed to leave me standing in the dark_

"Yes, I- of course... now?" he asks, grimacing at the last part. It's past three in in the morning.

"You're not allowed to take away people's will just because you think it's right. Compelling doesn't fix things!" she scolds him.

"Noted," he says, wary, "I was wrong," he admits, "I did something pretty stupid even for my standards. It won't happen again."

"As long as we're clear on this..." she says, her resolving is living her and she's starting to feel self-conscious. She's so much better at move wars against the evil then she is at this.

She only stares at him while her heart and her fears try to talk her into or out of something she's not sure it can really be avoided. Because some things are bound to happen. And the pull she feels is stronger than anything else. She's tired to secretly cherish dreams she tells herself she must regret. She's tired of waiting to meet him casually or because they must face an new threat. She's tired of all the denial and the hiding. Truth is supposed to set you free, isn't it?

And truth is that he let her see something, a naked side of him which she longs to touch.

"Listen," he says with a nod, "About my pathetic and unwanted confession, I-"

He has no way to finish whatever it was he wanted to say - since suddenly he can't bother to remember anymore - before her mouth is on his and her hands are gripped tightly to his shoulders. Damon's reaction is fast; his brain orders him to not leave her any time to change her mind now.

_Suddenly I'm caught in your light_

_Opened the door, and you stepped inside_

He cups her face holding her to him as he invades her mouth with his tongue. It's a warm, hard, deep kiss and he can feel the electricity flowing from one body to another, like a chemical reaction. If the entire block should blow up now he would not give a flying fuck about it and just keep on kissing her.

She smells like her honey soap, and as she presses herself against him he almost purrs into her mouth.

Forgetting entirely that she actually - physically - needs to breathe he tries to prolong their kiss even when she pushes against his chest with her open hands to put some space between them.

"Damon," she pants his name and that distracts him enough to make it easier for her to push him back a little. As he watches her, hypnotized, he just let his hands slips down to close around her waist.

Bonnie trembles and her eyes are dark pools. He grins at that.

"Yes," he says. It wasn't a question but he'll say yes to whatever it is she wants now if she'll let him kiss her some more.

Damon looks so beyond passion that she wants to giggle at her effect on him. She's flattered about it, and allured too. It feels so good to know that they're both feeling this, together.

_And I'm watching the house looking for reasons_

_Finding that I'm missing every beat of your heart_

"I suppose-" she clears her voice, trying not to smile, trying not to panic at the thought of what she's about to say, "I- I think we can give it a try."

"Oh, God, _yes_," he groans, making her blush, "We'll try a lot," he assures her, "Practice brings to perfection."

"Can you stop that?" she asks him moving her eyes away to hide her embarrassment, "You sound like you're dying to-"

"Kiss you," he fills in, trying to not force her too much. He can't be too graphic about what he's dying to do, not now anyway. She needs to do things slow and he'll do that. Then they'll do the_ fast and hard_, too.

He picks her off the ground, holding her against his chest like she weights nothing. Fixing his eyes into her.

"I need to... explain things to Jeremy before we can... actually..." she tries to explain, cupping one cheek with her hand. Touching him like this comes so natural all of a sudden that her brain can't really process it, and yet she can't bring herself to stop either.

"Feel each other up?" he suggests, suggestively.

"Damon!" she scolds him, holding on to his shoulders and looking down into his eyes from her high position, "Don't you even want to know why I am here in the middle of the night, kissing you?"

"Not in the least," he says without missing a beat, "I am fully convinced that there are better things I can do with your pretty mouth," he adds.

She's outraged but she's too busy gasping for air to roll her eyes at him, still she tries to hold on to her good sense, "Can you be serious for like five seconds? I'm telling you-"

She would explain him what she saw, what she knows, but patience was never his forte. To think about it, it's quite endearing how hard he tried to restrain himself with her.

"Whatever!" he concedes, "Can I kiss you if I let you win?" he asks her, almost begging. He makes sure to show his best puppy face ever, and she giggles before kissing him herself. He can be childish, and adorable - she will never say it or she'll never hear the end of it - but one touch of his mouth, of his tongue and there's a tingling, warm feeling between her thighs. A rush that makes her breathless and thrilled.

Bonnie links her arms around his neck as he walks backwards to go inside the boarding house. He kicks the door shout and brushes his cheek against her neck and hair, inhaling her. Outside, he sky is about to become coral above them.

_'til you're back in my arms,_

_I'll be waiting up counting the stars_

_Counting the stars._

_fine._

#

**Note: **The song I used in this last chapter is "Counting the stars" by Augustana. Well, what else there is to say? I enjoyed writing this; I'm not satisfied with myself but I'm just happy so many people loved it. I hope you weren't disappointed in the end. I always knew how would it all end, I feel almost giddy that I could write all the events in my mind and finish the story, even if I wanted to do better. Since not many know about it, "Dormiente" means "asleep/sleeping" in italian. I have an idea I could use for a sequel, if needed. I really don't know. Do you need a sequel or should we leave it all at this? Let me know in the review.

Thanks to everyone that's been so kind to leave me their comments, they've been very useful, in fact I went back to read them every time I felt like I was stuck or I was not in the mood to write, and they helped me a great deal. Thanks to 1beaut for being so ready to help out with her corrections, and to bewitchedbennett for betaing the last chapter; thanks to TheWunzelx3 for her fabulous trailer; thanks to everybody that was so amazing to actually recommend my fanfiction (SanjaTanja, irishcookie, Wahinetoa, jaywillikerz and more), thanks to those who made arts, thanks to all the people talking and tagging about Dormiente on tumblr. It's been my pleasure writing for you.


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